Off The Record
by sarahkwUT
Summary: AU. Detective Nicholas Scratch left New York for Greendale in desperate need of a change of scenery. The small town takes some getting used to, but local reporter Sabrina Spellman quickly grabs his attention. It's the fresh start he needed until Greendale's residents start turning up dead. With a murderer on the loose, no one is innocent - and anyone might be next.
1. Chapter 1

**Well, here we are. A full-fledged fan fiction. But AU featuring the gang a bit more grown up – cops, detectives, reporters… This idea came to me when I was home for my mom's funeral, a bit like my **_**Selfless **_**one shot did the night she died. (Which - wow. THANK YOU for such a kind reaction!) I waited to post until I knew I had a full story locked up and with more than 34,000 words already written, I'd say we're well on our way. I plan to update about once a week, if all stays on track. **

**It's an AU story, so there will be **_**some **_**differences (namely no magic – or… will there be magic?), but I'm trying to incorporate details from the series throughout in ways that stay true to character and town. Sabrina is still strong willed. Ambrose is still a bit eccentric, but not nearly as eccentric as Hilda. Zelda is still running the show. Theo and Roz are grown up and still friends (sorta...) Harvey is still a bit of a just a little too nice guy, and Nick… he's a hot detective with a crooked smile. **

**I hope you'll give it a chance – murder, mystery, romance… It's basically a TV drama waiting to happen! **

**Enjoy!**

* * *

Sabrina Spellman hummed to herself as she spooned freshly ground coffee beans into the coffee maker's filter. She was in an especially good mood, and determined to remain in a place of high vibrations and positivity. There had been enough days of sipping her morning coffee through puffy red eyes after crying herself to sleep.

"What has you so singsong-like this morning?"

Her cousin Ambrose breezed into the kitchen with an air of confidence. She crinkled her nose a bit. He was always a bit prouder, stood a bit taller, when he was in his uniform, but she couldn't help but think of him as the slightly older cousin that chased her with toads and gave her popsicles to keep her from telling when he was up to no good.

"I've decided today is going to be a good day," she said matter-of-factly. "I woke up in a good mood and I intend to stay in said mood."

"By all means, you make this day your bitch." Ambrose helped himself to a store bought muffin and held the container out to Sabrina. She plucked a blueberry one from its resting place. "It's good to see you happier. You were the definition of a cry for help for a while there."

"My best friend slept with my boyfriend," Sabrina reminded him. "I was allowed to wallow in self-pity and eat my feelings."

"I knew you were on the up and up when you started sharing the ice cream again." Sabrina broke off a piece of muffin and threw it at him. He dodged it, laughing. "Is the coffee ready?"

"Should be." She opened the cabinet that housed the mugs. "Staying or going this morning?"

"Going. I need to be in early. I have a new detective starting today. A hotshot from New York."

"Oh?"

Sabrina poured herself a mug of coffee and a travel mug for Ambrose. She added sugar to hers while Ambrose poured cream into his. In a practiced motion, they swapped containers.

"Nicholas Scratch is his name," Ambrose said as he added his sugar. "He interviewed a bit rough, but I've got a good feeling about him."

"Nicholas Scratch," Sabrina repeated. "Quite the detective-like name."

"Should be good fodder for your articles. 'According to Detective Scratch…' 'We nabbed the perpetrator using DNA analysis, said Detective Scratch…'"

"As though anything that interesting ever happens in Greendale," Sabrina replied. "Why do you say he interviewed rough?"

"Always the journalist…"

"I'm merely curious."

Ambrose rolled his eyes and took a sip of coffee.

"He's hiding something. Nothing criminal, I don't think. But he's hiding something. Or running from something. He comes with glowing recommendations from his superiors, but there's a past there."

"Fascinating," Sabrina quipped, already uninterested.

"What's fascinating?"

Their aunt, Hilda, bustled into the kitchen, her overdone makeup already on, her clothing as eccentric as ever.

"I was telling Sabrina about my new detective."

"Ah, Mr. Scratch, yes." Hilda helped herself to coffee. "I met him briefly, while at the station filing a report a few weeks ago. So you hired him, did you?"

"Filing a report on what?" Sabrina interjected, perking up at the whiff of a story.

"Oh, just the usual schoolchildren trying to sneak into the mortuary to see what they can see," Hilda dismissed. "Happens every few months or so. I usually let them go with a stern warning, but this time one of them snagged a wedding band that belonged to dear old Mr. Hammerstein on a dare. I needed it returned before his burial and I knew the little bugger who took it. The Greendale PD was kind enough to pop over to his house. I dropped any charges the moment it was back in my possession, though I think the poor dear is grounded for months. Serves him right, I suppose."

"As though my men didn't have something more important to do than chase down a petty barely teenage thief," Ambrose said.

"They didn't," Sabrina stated, causing Ambrose roll his eyes again.

"I should be going," he said. "Scratch is due into the office in less than thirty minutes."

"Detective Scratch," Hilda said as she settled at the table with the last muffin and her coffee. "I quite like how that sounds."

"You and Sabrina both," Ambrose said dryly. "Try to behave yourself today. Sabrina, I don't want to see you snooping around at the station."

"I'm a reporter," she reminded him. "Snooping is my job."

"You're nosy," Ambrose corrected. "I'll call you if anything exciting happens."

"It won't," Sabrina retorted. "Greendale isn't exactly high on crime."

"You'll be the first to know if that changes." He dropped his wallet into his pocket and clipped his phone to his tactical belt. "Don't expect me home tonight. I'm going to Prudence's after my shift."

Sabrina made a face. He dutifully ignored it.

"Be safe," Hilda told him, the same as she did every morning. "We'll see you tomorrow, then."

Ambrose waved a goodbye and shut the front door behind him.

"I don't know what he sees in Prudence," Sabrina declared, joining her aunt at the table. "She's cold and vile and Ambrose could do so much better."

"You just don't like her because she beat you for homecoming queen in high school," Hilda said conversationally. "Really, Sabrina, you're coming up on your ten year reunion. Surely you should be over it by now."

"Homecoming queen is only one item on a very long list of reasons I don't like – and have never liked – Prudence Night."

"I've heard this all before and have no desire to hear it again now," Hilda dismissed. "What are your plans for the day?"

"I have a noon deadline on a story about the Greendale fall festival," Sabrina replied. "And then I'll turn my attention to writing any obituaries that may need penning…"

"Oh, yes! You'll have a new one! Mrs. Allan passed last night. Remember her? Baked those excellent apple and raisin pies for the fall festival every year, and made those mini key lime pies for summer solstice… Old age. Went in her sleep. Bless her soul."

"Pies and old ages, the beginnings of any good obituary," Sabrina quipped, not for the first time wondering, even if just in the back of her mind, how she ended up working for her hometown newspaper when she thought her life would turn out so entirely different. "And I've decided I'm going to have a good day today. No more moping around or stewing on the past."

"That's the ticket," Hilda nodded approvingly. "Set your intentions and seize the day ahead of you." She took a sip of her coffee. "You're going down to the station today, aren't you?"

"Of course." Sabrina popped the last bite of her muffin into her mouth. "It's Monday. I haven't been there since Thursday. There's a chance something interesting happened over the weekend. A tiny chance, but a chance all the same."

"Well, if nothing else, you'll likely run into that Scratch character. He's devilishly handsome. He'll give you something to look at."

"Pretty sure I'm done with men in uniform," she stated, pushing back from the table. "Unlike Ambrose, I'll see you at dinner."

"Lovely. It'll be us and Aunt Zelda. I'm making pork roast and vegetables."

"Sounds delicious."

She told her aunt goodbye and headed to her office, no more than a small house converted to a newsroom and printing press. She wrote her article on the fall festival in under an hour, and proofread another piece before typing up Mrs. Allan's obituary, pies and all.

After lunch at Dr. Cerberus, she ventured over to the police station. The secretary merely nodded and smiled her blessing to pass through to the heart of the station, used to Sabrina's coming and going by now – and aware that she couldn't stop her if she tried. Sabrina stood with her hands on her hips, surveying the space before her. She wasn't surprised to find the activity level minimal, the officers on duty either out idling around the quiet streets of Greendale writing parking tickets or else sitting at their desks, pretending to push around paperwork. She took a few steps in the direction of Ambrose's office.

"Can I help you?"

She spun at the sound of the unfamiliar voice. She recognized him all the same.

Detective Nicholas Scratch was as handsome as Aunt Hilda said he was. He wasn't especially tall, but he was muscular, his dark hair coifed, his brown eyes deep. When he quirked one side of his lips upward in a friendly smile and lifted an eyebrow in question, he was Hilda's 'devilish' description personified.

"Detective Scratch," Sabrina stated. "Welcome to Greendale."

"My reputation precedes me, it seems." He full on smiled then. "But unfortunately, yours does not."

"I'm Sabrina Spellman." She held out her hand. "Reporter and associate editor,_ Greendale Gazette_."

"Ah," he nodded as he took her hand. She noted his rough hands, his sure grip. "Looking for a scoop?"

"Just doing my job," she replied as he released her hand.

"Unfortunately, I believe you're going to leave empty handed."

"Shocking." He chuckled. "I suppose that makes for a quiet first day on the job."

"In this line of work, quiet is always a good thing."

"You sound like my cousin," she muttered.

"Cousin. Captain Spellman, I assume?"

"One in the same," Sabrina confirmed. "Is he around? Not that I'm especially excited to see him. He's not a big fan of my hanging around here, hunting for stories.."

"It's an unwritten rule of the police force. We dislike reporters because you get in our way. There is typically much bigger things going on than answering questions like 'have you identified the victim yet?' and 'do you know the cause of death'?"

"Around here, everyone will know the victim and their next-of-kin will be notified before the ambulance pulls away," Sabrina informed him. "As for the cause of death, my aunt is the medical examiner. I have an 'in' on that sort of thing."

"Police captain's cousin, medical examiner's niece. That's a dream family tree for a reporter." He smiled at her again. Sabrina found herself smiling back.

"My Aunt Zelda is the mayor, and I live with them at the mortuary. It really is quite convenient." He chuckled at her wit.

"Well, lucky for you, your cousin isn't in his office at the moment. He's in court. Traffic violations, you see. Serious stuff."

"Ah yes, Father Blackwood was caught speeding last month. It was quite the town gossip." He chuckled again and opened his mouth to respond.

"Brina?"

They both turned at the voice. Sabrina took a deep breath and squared her shoulders.

"Officer Kinkle." Her tone was different, colder. Detective Scratch raised his eyebrow once more. "I was just checking in, seeing if anything newsworthy happened over the last few days. Detective Scratch informed me that my suspicions of no news were correct."

"I'm Officer Kinkle now?" he asked, clearly hurt. "Sabrina…"

"That's your title," she informed him. "I'll be on my way. Detective Scratch, it was nice to meet you. Welcome to Greendale." She turned to walk away. A hand on her arm stopped her.

"Sabrina, can I talk to you? Please? The break room is empty…"

She noted Detective Scratch step forward, ready to intervene if needed.

"I have nothing to say to you," she informed him. "I'm on my way out."

"Brina, you can't keep avoiding me…"

"Except I can." She made to leave again. Again, a hand stopped her.

"Officer Kinkle, I believe she said she was leaving." Detective Scratch's tone left no room for argument The men glared at one another for a moment before Officer Kinkle's hand fell away from Sabrina.

"Of course," he nodded. "Sabrina, I'll talk to you soon. Have a good rest of the day." He walked away. Sabrina made to leave, but it was Detective Scratch that stopped her this time by holding out a hand to block her path. He didn't look at her, but kept his eyes on the retreating back of Officer Kinkle. She waited, her curiosity peeked.

"You're okay?" he asked, once Officer Kinkle disappeared.

"I'm fine." Sabrina shook her head. "Ex-boyfriend, and all."

"He's not a threat?" Detective Scratch continued.

"He's a cop…"

"Wouldn't be the first cop ex-boyfriend to take a turn."

Sabrina shook her head again.

"He's not a threat," she assured him. "An annoyance, to be sure, but a threat? Absolutely not. Harvey is a good cop and ultimately a good person. Even if I hate his guts." Detective Scratch raised an eyebrow once more, but didn't comment. "I'm sure I'll see you around, Detective Scratch."

"I'm certain you will, Sabrina Spellman."

She felt his eyes on her as she walked out of the station.

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**Well? What do we think? **


	2. Chapter 2

**I did NOT expect such a great response to the first chapter! Thank you so much - I hope this lives up to your expectations! I've crossed the 41,000 words mark and plan to update on Mondays and Fridays, as much as I can - don't be too mad at me if it doesn't happen exactly on those days, but it will happen! :) **

**I think you'll see a few nods to the show (and perhaps Riverdale?) in this one. Happy reading!**

* * *

"How's it going, Detective Scratch?"

Nick looked up from the file he was reviewing. Captain Ambrose Spellman was in his office doorway.

"Slow," he admitted. "I'm just having a look through the Geraldine Grundy case. Seems pretty open and shut, no real reason to investigate further."

"That was this town's first murder in years," Ambrose said. "A scorned lover out for revenge. He wasn't very smart, given that he stayed and called Greendale PD to come to the scene of the crime. He'd confessed within hours."

"I'll bet your cousin had a field day with that story."

"You've met Sabrina?" Ambrose guessed.

"She stopped in yesterday…"

"Of course she did," Ambrose shook his head. "You'll find her to be rather nosy, always asking questions, digging deeper into everything from crimes to award-winning cattle at the summer fair. She did win a regional award for her coverage of the Grundy murder, however."

"Somehow, I'm unsurprised." He sat the file aside. "I spent about five minutes with her and was left with the impression that she's not one to easily back down."

"That's frighteningly accurate," Ambrose nodded. "I'm going to meet my girlfriend for lunch, then I thought I would catch you up on a few open cases this afternoon."

"You mean the whole three open cases, one of which is twenty-five years ice cold and the other two of which are more petty crime than felony punishment?"

"Three in the same," Ambrose confirmed.

"I look forward to it." Ambrose couldn't tell if there was sarcasm in his tone or not. "Where would one get a decent lunch around here?"

"Dr. Cerberus,'" Ambrose answered. "It's a bit eclectic and its name sake is an odd duck, but it's a good meal. It's just down the street. Take a left when you leave the station and walk about two blocks. Trust me, you can't miss it."

A few minutes later, Nick walked out of the police station and took a left. He pulled his coat around him, noting the cool temperatures. Fall was settling in fast and the trees that lined the almost too idyllic streets were tinged with oranges, reds, and yellows. Pumpkins and fall mums were starting to appear on doorsteps.

He hadn't made up his mind about Greendale yet. He had only been there a week, not much time to make a decision. It was infinitely smaller than New York, quiet, quaint. It lacked many of the amenities he had been comfortable with in the city, but he had already found he could live without ride sharing services and late night food delivery. It only took one night of going to bed hungry to learn he needed to have his dinner before nine, if he planned to eat out or pick up takeout. He supposed that was good for his health, and that he should do a better job of grocery shopping.

The Greendale Police Department surely wasn't the NYPD. He was a detective in title, but he wasn't running from one grizzly crime scene to the next in Greendale. He would be writing traffic tickets and breaking up high school parties more often than not, tasks he hadn't done since his earliest days of joining the force. Again, as much as he had loved his sometimes gruesome and often heart-wrenching job as a member of the NYPD, he needed the change Greendale provided.

Dr. Cerberus stood out just as Ambrose had told him he would. It's signage was loud and obnoxious, all wolves and flames and bright colors. The window display was a series of skeletons in various life scenes. One played piano while two more, dressed in a thrift store dress and suit danced. In another scene, a family of skeletons sat down to dinner. He vaguely wondered if Ambrose had pulled a trick on him, sending him to some odd place in town that would make the others laugh when they found out. Still, he pulled open the door and stepped inside.

It was a retro diner inside, all chrome and linoleum. The walls were lined with vintage posters and comic book sketches. A man he guessed was the namesake based on Ambrose's description fluttered about in a vampire costume. He was considering walking out when a distinct head of white blonde hair caught his eye. He knew whom it belonged to. He had never seen a head of hair that color until yesterday.

"Sabrina Spellman."

She looked up from the book she was reading.

"Detective Scratch," she greeted.

He couldn't help but notice the gold flecks in her brown eyes.

"Please, call me Nick." He slid onto a stool, purposefully leaving an empty one between them. "And before you ask, there's nothing new to report from the station. Unless you count a delivery of office supplies that caused a stir. It seems staplers are a hot commodity."

"We take stapler shortages very seriously around here," Sabrina replied without missing a beat. He chuckled and plucked a menu from a nearby lazy Susan of condiments.

"What's good here?" he asked.

"Everything, if you want an honest answer. Are you in the mood for breakfast food or lunch food?"

"Does that matter?"

"Cee serves breakfast all day. You have a lot of options."

"I'll take a lunch recommendation," Nick decided.

"The BBQ'd meat loaf platter," Sabrina said decisively. "It comes with mashed potatoes and corn on the cob. You'll love it."

"BBQ'd meat loaf?" he asked skeptically.

"Trust me," Sabrina nodded. Nick shrugged and put the menu aside. The vampire appeared and placed a grilled cheese and fries in front of Sabrina.

"Milkshake today, Sabrina?" he asked.

"Not today," she shook her head. "We're on to better days, Cee."

"The milkshakes are always here when you need them," he assured her. He turned to Nick who was looking curiously at Sabrina. "Might you be the new detective?"

"Nicholas Scratch," he confirmed, extending his hand. "I take it you're the owner?"

"I have to pay the bills somehow." Cee shook Nick's hand. "What can I get for you, Detective?"

"Sabrina says I should try the BBQ'd meat loaf. I'm going to take her recommendation. And a cup of coffee."

"A good choice," Cee confirmed. "It will be up shortly." He flittered away.

"Explanation, please?" Nick asked Sabrina, motioning towards the vampire

"Oh, Cee? He's a bit eccentric, but harmless. He was once the local weatherman, left that to host a short-lived horror show. All of this is a theme, something he does for fun, to be different." She smiled. "My aunt Hilda is his girlfriend. He's at our dinner table – in normal clothes – often."

A waitress dressed as a countess placed coffee in front of Nick.

"Is it just me, or does this town feel a little bit like Halloween?" he asked Sabrina. "I know its October, but we're still a few weeks away."

"It always feels a bit like Halloween," Sabrina confirmed. "Greendale is an old mining town. It's a little outdated, sort of stuck in a time warp, but with internet and cell phones. It's also known for its heavy fogs, so if you're awake at odd hours and the fog rolls in, it looks just like an old horror film."

He didn't bother with cream and sugar, Sabrina noted, as he sipped his coffee black.

"You know, I wasn't entirely truthful with you yesterday, Spellman." She quirked an eyebrow. "Your reputation did, in fact, proceed you." He took another sip of his coffee. "You're Edward Spellman's daughter."

"You knew my father?" Sabrina asked in surprise. Nick shook his head.

"I'm not much older than you, Spellman," he reminded her. "But your father was one of the FBI's most prolific special agents. His work solving crimes through forensics and sheer instinct is legendary. I read all of his journals when I was in college. Twice."

"You're quite the fan," Sabrina observed.

"More of a student of the craft." He took another swig of coffee. "It's a shame he was taken so soon, along with your mother. I know it's been a long time, but I'm sorry, all the same."

"Thank you," Sabrina said with a soft smile. She was used to people knowing about her father's background. "I was young, but it's nice to know they were together."

His food appeared in what had to be record time.

"I'm blaming you if this is terrible," he informed her.

"It won't be," she volleyed back. She bit into her own grilled cheese while she watched him cut into the loaf. He chewed with thought, as though he were a food critic.

"Not bad," he said once he swallowed. She gave him a look. "It was an excellent recommendation," he amended, because despite his doubts, the odd meal was surprisingly good. She laughed lightly, which made him smile. "So, you going to share any details about the bad blood between you and Officer Kinkle?"

"Like I said, ex-boyfriend." She popped a few fries into her mouth.

"I thought he mentioned a girlfriend," Nick said, pulling facts from his rolodex-like memory.

"Roz," Sabrina nodded. "Formerly known as my best friend." Nick winced.

"That's harsh."

"Now you know why I hate his guts."

"Rightly so." He studied her for a moment. "You sure he's harmless?"

"Of course," she nodded once. "He's just trying to get back in my good graces. Roz at least respects my 'leave me alone' wish."

"As long as you're sure he's harmless."

"I can't decide if you're being kind to worry or overly paranoid for the hell of it," she replied.

"I've seen a lot in my career," he told her. "Its safe to say I live life with a healthy dose of skepticism."

"That's sad, Scratch."

"Or its healthy, depending on how you look at it, Spellman."

She cataloged that piece of information in case she needed it later. She was finding she agreed with her cousin. There was more to Nicholas Scratch than a detective looking for a new job.

"What brought you to Greendale?" she asked conversationally.

"The job," Nick answered.

"And?" Sabrina pressed.

"And what?"

"There's more to that answer," she said knowingly.

"Someone retired…"

"Fred Marks," she supplied.

"They needed a replacement. And here I am."

"But why leave New York?" she continued. "Greendale and New York may as well be on different planets."

"You really are tenacious."

"I'm a journalist. It's my actual job to ask questions."

"I needed a change of scenery," Nick offered. "Greendale is that."

Sabrina studied him. He pretended to focus on his food, but his well-trained senses picked up on her curiosity about him, her want to press with still more questions. He waited for her to decide how she was going to proceed.

"That's all you're going to tell me?" she finally asked. He turned his own dark eyes on her and smirked.

"No comment."

She narrowed her eyes in annoyance.

"You're going to be one of _those _detectives," she stated.

"Like I said, Spellman, there's usually too much to do to solve a case to take time to answer media questions."

"Just remember you called me tenacious."

Nick laughed outright. He liked her, he decided. She was as strong-willed and clever as she was beautiful. He tried to focus on her cleverness rather than her beauty. Beauty had gotten him in trouble before.

Cee appeared with Sabrina's check.

"Thanks, Cee…"

Nick grabbed it without thought.

"I've got it."

"Nick, no." Sabrina tried to take it back.

"You gave me an excellent food recommendation and kept me entertained while I ate it." He put the check down, out of Sabrina's reach. "Consider it a pre-order of good will when I inevitably tell you 'no comment' down the line."

"Thank you," she told him sincerely. "That wasn't necessary, but I appreciate it." He winked at her.

She stayed a few more minutes, trading small talk with him while she finished her meal before leaving for an editorial meeting with a friendly goodbye. He waved Cee over.

"Can I get my check, too?" He handed the man his card and Sabrina's check. "Thanks."

"Our town's finest don't pay here," he informed Nick, taking Sabrina's check. "But I will always approve of a gentleman paying for a lady's meal."

"I'm trying to stay on her good side," Nick told him. "I've found you want the media on your side, even if you don't always want to talk to them."

"Sabrina is a good person to have on your side regardless of her job title," Dr. Cerberus replied. He passed Nick's card back along with a receipt to sign. "She's also single."

Nick signed the receipt with a flourish.

"I'm not looking for a relationship, Dr. Cerebus."

Dr. Cerebus gave him a knowing look.

"Isn't that what they all say?"

* * *

**Do let me know what you think! XOXO **


	3. Chapter 3

**Again with all the love! Thank you, so much! I love reading your replies and comments!**

**Get ready, friends. This is pretty much the last of the "set everything up" chapters a good story always starts with. It's about to take off from here (in my opinion, anyway!). **

**And now... 3 fun facts about Nicholas Scratch.**

* * *

"This is so bad…"

"It's not that bad…"

"Sabrina, the entire front end is gone!"

"Okay, Theo, let's take a deep breath…" She breathed in deep and exhaled. Theo Putnam just looked at her. "Theo, come on. Deep breaths." It took a couple of more tries, but Theo started to calm down. "Better?"

Theo nodded. "Are you okay?" he asked.

"I'm fine," she assured him. "This is why we wear seatbelts."

"She just slammed to a stop…"

"I know," Sabrina agreed. "She said a dog ran out in front of her. You didn't have time to stop. No one is to blame. It was an accident, Theo, and we're all okay."

The teenage driver Theo had rear-ended paced the sidewalk, talking rapidly on the phone to her mother while tears poured down her cheeks. Like Theo, she was more shaken by the accident than physically hurt.

"I'm so sorry, Sabrina…"

"Theo, enough," Sabrina shook her head. "We're all fine. We'll file a police report, call your insurance company, and be on our way."

As though on cue, the flashing lights of a Greendale PD vehicle appeared at the end of the street. Given that Sabrina had been clear that there were no critical injuries or threats to life when she called dispatch, the sirens weren't on. The Ford SUV rolled to a stop. Moments later, Nicholas Scratch stepped out.

"Sabrina," he greeted, surprised to see her at the accident scene.

"Detective Scratch," she replied.

"Nick," he corrected automatically. He surveyed her quickly, then gave the other two people at the scene a quick once over to confirm there weren't injuries. "What happened?"

Sabrina sprang into action.

"This is Paula Kingston." She gestured to the young girl that had approached apprehensively when Nick arrived. "She slammed on the brakes to avoid hitting the Johnsons' dog when it darted across the street. They never keep that thing on a leash. Theo and I were behind her. Theo braked, but his car is older and they locked up. We rear-ended Paula. It was an accident in every sense of the word."

Nick raised an eyebrow at Sabrina's sure explanation.

"Everyone is okay?" he asked, surveying them all again. "No one hit their heads on windshields or cut themselves on broken glass?"

"We're all fine," Sabrina confirmed. "Paula is pretty shaken up, as is Theo, but we're all physically fine." Nick nodded his agreement.

"If no one needs medical attention, let's take down some information and get your insurance companies on the line. License and registration, Theo and Paula?"

Sabrina made herself stay out of the way as Nick worked with Theo and Paula. He was patient, she noted, helping Paula figure out what papers were her registration when she got flustered over the amount of papers and manuals stuffed in the glove compartment of her parents' old sedan. He explained everything to her mother when she arrived, panicked and worried, and reiterated it to her father when he appeared a few minutes later. He was kind, gentle with Theo who was still on edge and in control when the wrecker service came to haul away their cars.

She also noted that he was especially attractive in his black pants and black t-shirt, tactical suspenders looped over his shoulders, an ink pen stuck behind his ear that he occasional removed to take notes.

She watched him bid Paula and her parents farewell, then return to her and Theo.

"Can I give you two a ride somewhere?" he asked.

"We aren't far from my place," Sabrina answered. "We can walk there and I'll take Theo home later."

"You sure? I don't mind…"

"I'm sure," Sabrina nodded. "Thanks, Detective… Nick."

"Thank you," Theo echoed. "For your help and your offer of a ride."

"Just doing my job," Nick told them. "It beats sitting at my desk shuffling papers. Be careful walking home."

"I suppose we could come across a rabid squirrel or a vengeful deer," Sabrina said seriously.

"I'd be more concerned about thieving raccoons," Nick countered. "Fred Martin stopped by the station for a visit this morning. He thought he had an intruder, but it was just a family of raccoons, digging through his trash."

"Did Fred have thoughts on your office?" Sabrina asked curiously.

"He did, actually," Nick replied, surprised by her comment. "It seems I haven't done enough with the place. I've only been on the job a week, but he says I should have put my personal touch on the place by now."

"His office was full of town mementos and accolades," Theo supplied. "It was almost a museum in and of itself."

"Well, I have a stapler, a can of pens, and a crap computer," Nick told them. "I'm reserving my wall space in case I ever need to construct an evidence board." He tipped an imaginary hat at them. "I'm heading back to the station if you two don't need anything else."

"Thanks again, Nick."

"Just doing my job."

He left them on the sidewalk and climbed back into his SUV. Sabrina and Theo set off at a leisurely pace in the opposite direction.

"So that's Detective Scratch," Theo commented.

"That's him," Sabrina confirmed. "A big city detective turned small town cop."

"An interesting turn in career path…"

"Isn't it? Ambrose said he felt like there was more to Nick's past. I think he's right. I asked him what brought him to Greendale and all he said was 'the job' and 'change of scenery.'"

"Let me guess. You showed up at the station on his first day and hammered him with questions about his background."

"I did show up at the station on his first day, but it was to hunt for leads. I talked to him at Cee's one day last week while he was on his lunch break." She kicked at a pebble. "He studied my dad's work while he was in college. He said he's read his journals twice. My dad had volumes and volumes of journals."

"Is that weird for you?" Theo asked. Sabrina shook her head.

"He's not the first to tell me how great my father was. Won't be the last, either."

"Did you happen to notice that he's drop dead gorgeous?" Theo continued. Sabrina gave her friend a look. "What? He is!"

"He's attractive," Sabrina admitted. "In a devil may care sort of way."

"I was thinking more of a 'James Dean' kind of way, with the dark hair, dark eyes…" Sabrina said nothing. She could follow Theo's line of thought, even if she wouldn't admit it. "I'm guessing he's single?"

"That's the assumption."

"It's been a few months…"

"Theo," Sabrina warned.

"What? I'm just saying, it's been a few months and Detective Scratch is nothing to turn your nose up."

"I need a break from men," she declared. "No matter how attractive Scratch is."

They walked along in silence for a few minutes.

"Roz really misses you," Theo chanced, breaking the silence. Sabrina sighed heavily. Theo hurried on. "So does Harvey. I know it's a crappy situation, but we've all been friends for so long…"

"Theo, I know it's hard on you, being in the middle of us." Theo nodded vigorously. "But Roz was my best friend and Harvey was my boyfriend. It's not like they traded a few scandalous looks and that was that. They slept together. While Harvey and I were still together."

"I understand that," Theo nodded. "But you told Roz and I that you two were on your way to breaking up. Not that that makes things right, but all of this – your breakup, Roz and Harvey getting together – was a long time coming."

He could see it, even if they couldn't. Sabrina and Harvey stayed together far longer than they should have, and Roz and Harvey had always had chemistry. That chemistry became palpable when Sabrina left for college. It was a wonder it had taken them so long to get together.

"Can we not talk about them?" Sabrina requested. "I'm finally starting to string together consecutively good days."

"Fine," Theo relented as the mortuary came into view. "I still think you should consider Detective Scratch as an option."

"Detective Scratch…"

"Didn't he tell you to call him Nick?" Theo interrupted. Sabrina glared at him. "Just saying…"

"Detective Scratch will be a source for stories and perhaps a friendly conversation from time to time. Nothing more."

Theo changed the topic to plans for the rest of the day, but he couldn't help but think about how Nicholas Scratch had eyes only for Sabrina as soon as his job was done.

And Sabrina hadn't smiled like that in weeks.

* * *

"You filed that accident report quickly."

"I don't like paperwork," Nick replied. "I get it out of the way as soon as possible."

"I take the exact opposite approach." Ambrose stepped further into the office. "I shove it off as long as absolutely possible."

"And you regret it every time."

"I do," Ambrose confirmed. "Do you have plans for dinner?"

"To eat it," Nick shrugged. "Whatever 'it' turns out to be."

"You haven't had a home cooked meal in a long time, have you?" Ambrose guessed.

"Define home cooked. Because I opened a can of ravioli last night and heated it up on my stovetop instead of in the microwave like I normally do. I even ate it out of a real bowl that I had to wash afterward."

Ambrose chuckled.

"Come to the mortuary for dinner tonight," he offered. "My aunt Hilda is making lasagna and nothing makes her happier than a table full of mouths to feed."

"I wouldn't want to intrude…" Ambrose shook his head.

"I've already told her you're coming," he informed Nick. "She's beside herself. Thinks you're handsome. Don't go getting any ideas though. She's been hot and heavy with Cee for years."

Nick chuckled. "I'll be on my best behavior," he assured him. "Thanks, Captain."

"Of course," Ambrose nodded.

"Can I bring anything?"

"A healthy appetite," Ambrose directed as he turned to leave. "Aunt Hilda loves second and third helpings and hates empty plates."

* * *

"Detective Scratch, I'm so pleased you could join us!"

"Thank you for having me," Nick replied politely. "These are for you." He expertly presented the blundering woman with a bouquet of grocery store flowers. "And please, call me Nick."

"Nicholas, then," Hilda said with a nod. "Ambrose and Dr. Cee are just through there." She motioned at a door. "Dinner will be ready soon. I'm going to put these flowers in water. Thank you, dear!"

He found Ambrose and Cee in what he assumed was the parlor.

"Ah, Detective Scratch!" Cee greeted. "Sweet Hilda mentioned you'd be joining us."

"Call me Nick, please," he requested. He was briefly taken back by how normal Cee looked in jeans and a button down shirt. The only sign of his vampire alter ego was his slicked back hair.

"Can I interest you in a pre-dinner drink?" Ambrose offered. "Pick your poison. We have it all."

"Whiskey neat?" Ambrose plucked a decanter from a loaded bar cart, poured the amber liquid into a tumbler, and passed it to Nick. "Thanks, Captain."

"If you're Nick here, then I'm Ambrose," Ambrose directed. Nick nodded his agreement and took a seat. He looked around the room, taking in the antiques and dated wallpaper.

"It's a bit weird, isn't it?" Cee asked, catching Nick's wandering eye. "Knowing you're in a mortuary?"

"I hadn't thought about that," he admitted. "I was just taking in the space. Habit of mine – always observing my surroundings."

"Your observation skills came highly regarded by your former superiors," Ambrose commented. "At this point, there is only one body in the morgue. Another old age death. Their service is day after tomorrow."

"I suppose it's a good thing dead bodies don't phase me," Nick replied. He had seen more than his fair share of them, and certainly in far worse shape than a corpse of an elderly person.

The topic of conversation turned. Nick found Ambrose and Cee shared his love of baseball, and the conversation on the playoffs and who was most likely to play for the World Series in a few weeks carried them until Hilda's voice boomed through the house, announcing dinner.

"Cee, your usual place here," Hilda pointed a spot at the head of the table as they entered the kitchen. "Ambrose, you're here, as always." She pointed to the opposite end of the table. "Nicholas, you'll be here," she motioned at a setting, "right next to…"

"Did I hear dinner is ready?" Sabrina appeared in the kitchen.

"Sabrina," Hilda finished. "Just in time, love. Full house tonight!" She clapped her hands in glee.

"Nick, hi," Sabrina greeted. "I didn't know you were joining us for dinner."

"You would have if you weren't holed up in your room typing away," Ambrose commented. "Really, Sabrina, the red wine on the bar cart won't drink itself and you've stood me up for pre-dinner drinks three nights running."

"You were with Prudence last night," she reminded him. "I had a drink – alone – to cope with how sorry I felt for you."

"Clever one aren't you?" Ambrose fired back as he pulled put his chair. "My dear cousin doesn't like my girlfriend," he told Nick.

"I gathered that." He didn't think twice about pulling Sabrina's chair out for her.

"Thank you," she muttered as she took her seat. Neither of them noticed Hilda watching with interest, her head full of Cee's report of their lunch conversation the previous week.

"Prudence beat Sabrina for Homecoming Queen their senior year of high school," Cee supplied.

"That's quite a grudge to hold onto, Spellman," Nick said as he settled beside her.

"I won prom queen," Sabrina reminded them. "And that's only one…"

"Of many reasons you don't like Prudence," the others at the table recited in unison. Nick grinned in amusement as Sabrina simmered next to him.

"Enough of that," Hilda said. "Let us eat. Salad first, I think, while the lasagna cools just a tad. It'll burn your tongue right off if we eat it now."

"Where's Aunt Zelda?" Sabrina asked as they started passing the salad bowl and dressing around the table.

"She has a dinner thing with Father Blackwood," Hilda answered. "Some sort of charitable thing."

"Charitable indeed," Ambrose muttered. Sabrina snorted into the wine glass Hilda had placed at her seat. Nick looked between them, sure he was missing something. Even Cee was trying to hide his grin.

"Stop that now," Hilda chided once again. "Nicholas is going to think the Spellmans have absolutely no manners." Sabrina and Ambrose traded another grin.

"Salad, Nick?" Sabrina asked.

"Please."

Dinner proved to be a lively affair. The Spellmans were an animated bunch and Cee fit in seamlessly. The only thing better than the lasagna that seemed to just keep coming was the peach pound cake and ice cream Hilda made for dessert. Nick felt welcomed, like they wanted him there. It was what he imagined family dinners were supposed to be.

"I should be going," he said after dinner and dessert. It was already far later than he had intended to stay. "Hilda, thank you for dinner. It was delicious."

"I have leftovers for you," Hilda countered, jumping to her feet. "I'll meet you at the front door." She rushed from the room.

"You're a swinging bachelor with no one to cook for you," Ambrose told him. "You're basically the man she's been waiting for her entire life." He looked at Cerberus. "Sorry, Cee."

"Can't win them all," Cee shrugged.

"I won't turn down leftovers," Nick said as he made to follow Hilda out of the room. "Although I'm not sure how there are leftovers."

"Hilda cooks for an army whether expecting two or a dozen," Cee told him.

Nick bid them goodnight, wondering vaguely where Sabrina had disappeared to. He thanked Hilda for the heaping aluminum wrapped plate she presented him with and stepped outside. A black cat was sitting on the bannister. It somehow felt appropriate for the house.

"Heading out?"

He startled.

"Sabrina!"

She was sitting on the porch in leggings and a big sweatshirt, her legs tucked under her as she sipped from a mug of tea.

"A bit jumpy for detective," she observed.

"You almost made me drop my plate. I'd be devastated if that happened."

"Aunt Hilda would have fixed you another one," she said with confidence. "We'll all be eating lasagna for lunch tomorrow."

"What are you doing out here?" he asked, leaning against the railing. "It's getting late."

"I like to sit out here and have my tea most nights. It's peaceful."

"Chamomile to help you sleep?" Nick guessed.

"Not tonight. Tonight it's turmeric and ginger."

"That sounds terrible."

"It's good for inflammation and strengthening the immune system," she informed him. "I'd guess you've never tried it."

"That guess would be correct." The cat brushed against him with a soft purr. "What's this guy's name?"

"That's Salem."

"How fitting."

"He found us a couple of years ago," Sabrina explained. "He showed up here and wouldn't go away, even after Aunt Zelda refused to allow us to feed him. She caved after a week and we named him Salem."

She winced a bit as she put the tea down on the small table next to her chair. Nick noticed.

"You sure you don't have any aches or pains from that fender bender you were involved in today?" he asked.

"My wrist is a little sore," she admitted. "I caught myself on the dashboard when we made impact."

"Think you should have it looked at?" Sabrina shook her head.

"Aunt Hilda looked at it earlier. She said it'll be a little sore for a few days, but its nothing to worry about."

"Good," he nodded, pushing himself off the railing. "I really should get going…"

"Not so fast."

He stopped and looked at her expectantly.

"Tell me something about yourself, Scratch."

"What?"

"Tell me something about yourself," she repeated. "I realized at dinner that you know a fair amount about me, between what you know about my father and bits you've picked up since you've been here, including rather sordid bits about my previous relationship. I know very little about you."

"Is this reporter Spellman talking?"

"We can deem this inquisition off the record if you'll fess up to three facts about yourself."

"Three facts about myself," Nick drawled, because he had nothing better to do. "Let's see… Here's one for you." He leaned forward conspiratorially. "I absolutely hate black jelly beans."

Sabrina made a face.

"That's not a fact."

"Yes it is. It's a fact that I hate black jelly beans, like most people."

"You're generalizing people's preferences for black jelly beans."

"You like black jelly beans, don't you?" Nick countered.

"Of course I do." He snorted back a laugh. "Next fact?"

"I drink my coffee black."

"I already knew that," Sabrina informed him. "I noticed at Dr. Cerberus' last week, and again tonight during dessert. That fact doesn't count."

"Fine. Coffee doesn't have the same affect on me as it does most humans. I've had several cups today. I'll probably have another when I get home, go right to sleep and do it all again tomorrow."

"Impressive," Sabrina replied wryly. "Third fact? This one can't be food related."

"There are a lot of rules to this game of yours."

"Third fact, Scratch?"

He thought in earnest of a not too personal fact he could tell her. She was too impatient for him, however, and a reporter to her core.

"What does your father do?" she prompted. "You probably know more about mine than I do, after all."

Several moment of silence stretched between them. Sabrina sensed that she had touched on a sore subject.

"I'm told he was a civil engineer," Nick finally said, his voice a pitch lower. He moved the plate of leftovers from one hand to the other. "He died in a construction accident before I was born." He scuffed his foot against the weathered porch planks. "My mother died during childbirth. Eclampsia."

"Nick…" Her heart went out to him. "I'm sorry…" She felt terrible, hounding him until he shared something he clearly didn't like to talk about.

He shook his head.

"I never knew them." He brushed it off, pretending like it didn't bother him to talk about his long dead parents. He tilted his head towards the front door. "You're pretty lucky, Spellman. You've got a lot of people who love you." She nodded, lost for words. "I really should get home. It's getting late."

"Goodnight, Nick."

"Goodnight, Sabrina."

She watched him descend the stairs and disappear into his police SUV.

She had just learned a little bit more about Nicholas Scratch.

Yet she was certain there was so much more.

* * *

**What oh what is Nick hiding? Time will tell... Or will it?**


	4. Chapter 4

**Look at that - updating a day early. Mostly because you guys had so many great things to say, but also a little because I really like this update. It's HEAVY. Just know that - it's a heavy one. But I think there are some sweet moments, too. **

**I'm really loving writing this story - I hope you're loving reading it! **

* * *

She couldn't believe it had taken her this long to Google Nicholas Scratch.

As a reporter, it should have been one of the first things she did.

Ambrose hadn't been lying when he called him a hot shot from New York. He was in the headlines time and time again, or at least the crimes he worked and solved were.

A member of the New York Police Department Detective Borough. Crime Scene Unit. Homicide squad. Decorated and respected. Noteworthy for his youth compared to his counterparts. Considered a brilliant young forensic mind. Consistently praised for his strong instincts when it came to solving a case.

None of that explained why he was now a detective in a small town with so little crime there was probably an argument for not having a detective on staff at all.

She skimmed another article, this one a more recent one about charred remains found in a storage tank. Nick had been the lead detective and managed to tie the crime to her estranged boyfriend through a series of DNA samples, phone records, a partial footprint, and a tire track.

He was brilliant, she concluded. And absolutely hiding something, or else, as Ambrose put it, running from something.

Her phone chimed with a text from her editor.

_Rollover car crash. Teenagers. Rt. 15, just inside the county line. _

She slammed her laptop shut, grabbed her bag and her phone, and raced for the front door. She nearly plowed over her Aunt Zelda

"Sabrina!" Zelda cried out. "Where's the fire?"

"Car crash on Route 15," she yelled as she ran for the door. "Gotta go!"

It was late afternoon, but raining hard, fog thick and water standing. She pushed her old Toyota as fast as she dared to go in the conditions and came up on the accident scene within 10 minutes. The road was lined with flares and lit by a sea of red and blue lights of squad cars, ambulances, and fire trucks. Those first on the scene and curious onlookers stood around the barriers. She pulled her car to the side of the road, put on her flashers, and rushed out, pulling the hood of her raincoat over her.

"Sabrina, I can't let you past this point."

She was stopped by a large body in her way. She huffed in annoyance.

"Really, Melvin? We're going to do this?"

"This isn't some little fender bender, Sabrina," he told her, raising his voice to be heard over the pounding rain. "This is bad."

"All the more reason its news worthy."

"I'm sure Ambrose will address the press later…"

"The press?" she cut him off. "I am the press. This is Greendale, not some major news market." She tried to step around him. He blocked her again.

"Seriously, Sabrina, the PD said no one gets through unless they're a first responder."

"When are you going to stop trying this with me?" Sabrina asked him, exasperated. He was a volunteer fireman in the town, and in her opinion, felt most important when he was standing in her way. Like she always did, she ducked around him and ignored his calls for her to stop. She vaguely noted both Ambrose's cruiser and Nick's SUV, lights flashing, both driver's side doors left wide open, as she barged her way forward.

She wasn't ready for the scene that awaited her once she rounded the emergency vehicles.

"Oh my God…"

She wouldn't have known there was a car involved if she hadn't been told. There was little left of it. Debris littered the road and spread into the ditches on either side and beyond. 'Rollover' had been a vast understatement. The car seemed to have flipped many times over, destroying it in the process.

It was the tarps that took her breath away.

Blue tarps littered the scene.

Her heart stuttered. She knew what those tarps meant. And her editor's text had said 'teenagers.' She took a step forward, eager to help in any way she could, all thoughts of collecting facts for a story fleeing her mind.

"Absolutely not."

Nicholas Scratch appeared out of seemingly nowhere. His hand clamped around her upper arm and he pulled her back towards the barriers.

"Nick!' She tried to pull away from him. He held tighter, moved with more purpose. "What happened?"

"You can't be here, Sabrina."

"My editor said there was a rollover crash with teenagers…"

"Not now, Sabrina," he warned.

"But Nick…"

At the edge of the scene, he whirled to face her. He was wearing a Greendale PD raincoat, but the hood had long ago fallen from his head. He was soaked, his dark hair blackened with rain.

"Sabrina, this is an active accident scene. I know you've figured out there are fatalities. You already know there are teenagers involved. Think about that for a minute. There are fatalities. Plural. Teenagers. Sometime, too soon for anyone's liking, we're going to have to tell parents their kids are dead. This isn't the time for you to be digging for a scoop. I don't want them finding out from the press."

"I want to help," she countered, somehow both annoyed with him and touched by his protectiveness over the lives involved.

"If you want to help, stay out of the way," he directed. Water dripped from his nose, his jaw. "I mean it, Sabrina. Don't come any further than you are right now. I'm not above arresting you if you do."

He left her with one last warning look.

For a while, she stood and observed. In spite of the chaos of the scene, no one seemed hurried. That, too, was another sign that things were bad. She picked out Ambrose, his head bowed as he listened to the fire chief who looked sad and worn. She found Harvey, too, diligently trying to write notes as another officer held an umbrella over them that was doing little good. They stood next to what she thought had once been a car fender.

There was one pocket of activity on the farthest side of the scene. A swarm of people huddled around a tarp, working furiously. She saw Nick there, standing just out of the way, hands on his hips, seemingly impervious to the rain. He kept his eyes on the victim at the heart of the crowd, waiting.

All at once, the activity stopped. For one hopeful moment, Sabrina held her breath. She watched someone lifted his watch. She couldn't hear what he said, but she knew what he was doing – calling time of death. She watched Nick drop his chin to his chest for a moment. He lifted his head after a moment and turned in Ambrose's direction. Ambrose looked at him, as though sensing an update. Nick shook his head minutely. Ambrose's eyes fell shut and he let his head fall back, his own hood slipping from his head. The fire chief bowed his head and placed a hand on Ambrose's shoulder.

She had to look away when the tarp was folded over the body.

She stayed where she was for what felt like an eternity, taking in as much of the scene as she could, trying not to see the terrible parts. Her eyes seemed drawn to Nick, picking him out of the crowd as he navigated the scene. He frequently had his head together with Ambrose, checked in with Harvey, the other officers, EMTs, the firemen. He moved sure, steady and determined, seemed to pay no mind to the elements, intent on doing his job.

A woman appeared next to her. She was frantic, shaking, but not from the rain.

"Excuse me?" Sabrina recognized her from around town, but couldn't place her name. Her voice shook. "Can you help me?"

"I can try," Sabrina offered, taking a step towards her. "What can I do for you?"

"My daughter…" Her voice cracked. "I think… I think she might have been…"

Sabrina's heart crumbled. It seemed she wasn't the only one capable of slipping past Melvin. She remembered Nick's words about fatalities and his warning that parents needed to be notified properly.

"The first responders are doing everything they can," Sabrina assured him. "I know it's hard, to wait for news, but we have to stay out of their way." She looped her arm through the woman's. "Come on. Let's get you out of the rain."

She lead the woman to Nick's SUV. She opened the backdoor and helped her inside. She shut her in and intended to walk around the other side. Nick, however, was there.

"What are you doing?" he asked wearily.

Knowing the woman would likely get out of the car and ask Nick questions he may not be ready to answer, she pulled him away from the SUV, purposefully choosing to steer them away from the accident scene, both to show Nick she wasn't trying to interfere, and to avoid drawing the woman's attention.

"She thinks her daughter was in the car," she told him. "I didn't want her…" Nick was already nodding his understanding.

"Stay with her. Don't answer any questions. And don't let her near the scene."

"I can do that." He made to go back to work. Sabrina stopped him this time. "How are you holding up?"

She saw the brief moment he let his mask fall and his weariness show. The mask was back in place almost as soon as it fell away.

"Some days on the job are harder than others," he said. "Today is right up there with the hardest." He pursed his lips for a moment. "Get out of the rain, Sabrina. My keys are still in the truck. Turn on the heat, try to warm up."

Sabrina sat in the back of Nick's SUV for another hour, making small talk with the woman, doing what she could to keep her occupied and avoid her questions. She held onto hope that the woman, Angela, she now knew her name to be, was wrong, that her daughter was merely being a stubborn teenager and not replying to texts or phone calls, that she wasn't in the car with her friends, on the way back from a day of shopping for Homecoming dresses in New Haven.

Nick tapped on Sabrina's window. She opened the door for him.

"Angela Fields?" he asked. Sabrina heard the trepidation in his voice.

"Yes…"

"Ms. Fields, I'm Detective Nicholas Scratch. I'm so sorry…"

Sabrina held her as she sobbed.

She cried, too.

* * *

Nick rested his elbows on the desk and rubbed his face.

He was exhausted, physically, mentally, and emotionally.

As strange as it sometimes sounded, he loved his job. He loved the way it made his brain work, the way puzzle pieces clicked into place and a criminal was brought to justice. But there were times, like tonight, when it wore on his very soul.

Parents weren't supposed to bury their children.

Teenagers weren't supposed to die.

Someone tapped on his doorframe.

"Sabrina."

"I bought you some coffee." She stepped into his office. "There are a couple of slices of pound cake, too, one marble, one brown sugar."

"Thank you." He sat back in his desk chair. "I appreciate it." She placed a travel thermos and a paper plate holding two generous slices of cake on his desk. "It's nearly two in the morning, Spellman. What are you doing here? Surely you had enough from the briefing to write your story."

"My initial story is written and filed." She tapped her fingers against her leg. "I couldn't sleep. I knew you and Ambrose and a few others would be pulling all nighters. I thought I'd bring reinforcements."

Nick picked up the thermos.

"This doesn't look like break room coffee."

"That coffee was brewed in the Spellman kitchen. I know the stuff you guys have here is barely flavored water. I bought some for Ambrose, too."

"Hilda responsible for the cake?" he continued.

"She had me bring those. There are cookies and muffins, too, and more where that came from. She happened to have gone on a baking spree out of boredom yesterday." She pursed her lips for a moment. "I suppose boredom won't be a problem for a while."

A heavy silence fell between them.

"Five teenagers," Nick finally said.

"I can't believe it," Sabrina echoed. "I don't want to."

"Five grieving families. Five funerals. Five homecoming dresses that won't be worn." Nick dropped his head into his hands for a moment to collect himself. When he lifted his head, Sabrina was perched on the edge of his desk.

"How are you holding up?" she asked for the second time that night. Her concern was just as genuine as it had been the first time.

"Like I told you earlier, there are days that stick with you longer than others. This one will stick with me for a long time to come." He took a sip of coffee. It was strong and black, just like he liked it. "Off the record?"

"Off the record," Sabrina confirmed. "I'm not here for a scoop, Nick."

She wasn't entirely sure why she was there. She had brought food for the officers, coffee for Ambrose and Nick. But it had been thoughts of a soaking wet and weary-looking Nick that dragged her out of her warm, dry bed. She didn't have available headspace to explore why right now.

"Ambrose and I were the first people on the call. He was nearby, checking on some flash flooding. I was patrolling a few miles away. There were three bodies in the car, or what was left of it." He paused for a shaky breath. "All of them were still wearing their seatbelts."

"Oh, Nick…" She couldn't imagine the scene. She didn't want to. What she had seen had been awful enough.

"Ambrose found the fourth victim about twenty feet away. He checked for a pulse, but there wasn't one. I found the fifth victim. She'd been thrown about forty feet and was somehow still alive. A doctor happened to be among the people who came upon the scene. He worked on her, but her injuries were too extensive." Nick looked at Sabrina whose eyes had clouded with tears. "She was the daughter of the woman you were sitting with."

"I can't believe…" Sabrina shook her head sadly and wiped at her eyes.

"The rain and fog made everything infinitely more difficult. Speed and wet roads look to be the culprit, but we'll send out a reconstruction team in the morning and rely on Hilda's reports on cause of death to state a final cause. The rain washed away a lot of evidence, but we did what we could."

It had washed away a lot of blood, too. Hid a lot of tears from grown men.

"I hope they had a really great day," Sabrina said, thinking of the girls. "I hope they each found the perfect homecoming gown, had lunch somewhere wonderful, maybe treated themselves to an ice cream or one of those giant mall cookies." She bit her lip. "I hope they were laughing when it happened. "

"It was a hard day," Nick said again. "There will be some hard ones ahead as the town processes all of this."

Sabrina noticed then that he had written the victims' names in the bottom corner of a newly hung whiteboard. His penmanship was more elegant than what she would have expected from a detective. She stood and walked over to it. She pointed to the first name.

"Emily Harrowick. 17. I babysat her and her little sister, Alice." She smiled sadly. "I used to bribe them with pizza and cotton candy to not tell their parents I invited Harvey over." She studied the name for a moment, wrestling with the fact that the vibrant young girl was gone. "I saw her at Dr. Cerberus a few days ago. She told me she had just been accepted to UCONN through early admissions. She planned to major in biology and go to med school."

She moved her finger down to the next name.

"Alex Plato. 16. She was captain of both the cheerleading squad and of the mathletes. She loved that duality – that she could be a bright, bubbly cheerleader and incredibly good with numbers. She wanted to be a math teacher."

The next name.

"Grace Fuller. 17. Mrs. Tankersley told me she was the best year book editor Baxter High had seen since yours truly." Nick smiled just slightly, all of his attention on Sabrina. "She was a gifted photographer. She always had her camera with her. We used her photos of town events in the _Gazette _from time to time."

The next name.

"Abigail Allen. 16. A junior, but already on her second year as editor of the Baxter High newspaper. I met her for milkshakes a few weeks ago. She picked my brain about journalism and what it was like to be a reporter. She emailed me last week about coming in for a panel discussion on the news industry for her journalism class. I replied that I'd be happy to do it, but she never got back to me."

Abby never would.

The last name.

"Lydia Fields. 16. I didn't know her as well as the other girls, at least not until tonight." She paused to think of the girl's mother, how much she had loved her daughter. The woman had shared a lot about her girl while they waited for news. "She was an incredible volleyball player. I'd see her name in the sports section from time to time. She played basketball and soccer, too, her mom said, but she was being scouted by colleges for a volleyball scholarship."

More silence fell over the room.

Nick studied Sabrina. All he saw in that moment was heartbreak, empathy, and a genuine kindness that went so deep it was palpable. She hadn't researched those girls for a newspaper article.

"You knew each of them."

"Emily, Grace, and Abigail," she nodded. "Alex and Lydia, I didn't know quite as well. But it's Greendale, Nick. These girls are our neighbors. I watched them grow up."

She couldn't hold back the wall of tears any longer. They had been breeching their dam all evening, often without warning. Loss of life was always heartbreaking, but five teenagers with so much to live for wrecked a person's soul.

Nick let his instincts take over. He pushed back from his desk and went to her.

"Come here," he muttered. He wrapped her in his arms and held her as she cried. His own eyes burned, but he didn't let his tears fall. He had a personal rule that he didn't cry at work. He saved his emotions for private moments.

"I'm sorry," she said when she pulled away. "I don't know how you do it."

"Compartmentalization," he answered without further explanation. Instinct told him to tuck a piece of loose hair behind her ear. She was beautiful, even when she cried. He wanted to hold her again. She felt right in his arms. Like she belonged there. "I'm sorry I don't have tissues."

"It's okay, Nick." She wanted him to pull her back to him. It felt safe in his arms, like the bad stuff from the last few hours didn't exist there. Instead, she wiped at her wet cheeks. "I should go home, see if Hilda needs anything, try to sleep."

"Is it still raining?" Nick asked. His office had no windows.

"It is. Just a light rain now, though. I think the system is finally moving out."

"Want me to drive you home? It's late…"

"I'll be fine," she shook her head. "Try to get some sleep yourself, okay?"

"I will eventually," Nick nodded. Sabrina made to leave. "Sabrina?" She looked at him expectantly. "I owe you an apology. I was pretty short with you at accident scene."

"You were doing your job, Nick," she told him. "There's no need to apologize. You were right for keeping me out of the way." She realized now he was also protecting her from the horrors hidden by all those tarps. She tilted her head slightly. "For what its worth, and because I think you need to hear it right now, you're really good at your job. I don't just mean the investigative part of it. You were calm and collected under a lot of pressure tonight and so kind and patient with their families when they learned about their daughters. Give yourself some credit."

"Thank you, Sabrina," he said with a small smile. "I did need to hear that." He had needed more than even he realized. "Thank you for the coffee and cake, too."

"Eat that cake," she told him. "I know you haven't had dinner."

"I haven't," he admitted. "Someone brought in sandwiches after we got back from the scene, but food wasn't my top priority." He had barely taken the time to change out of his wet clothes before setting to work analyzing evidence and writing reports. There were a lot of parents that needed answers, closure. He wouldn't let them down. "Tell Hilda thank you as well. I'm sure I'll see her tomorrow, though. Or, rather, in a few hours, as it is." He would need her reports on the girls' causes of death. He would likely have to view the bodies again, as well.

"I'll tell her," Sabrina said. Nick plucked a newly printed business card from the holder on his desk.

"Do me a favor?" He passed her the business card. "Text me when you get home, let me know you got there safely. With the night we've had…"

"I'll text you," she promised as she tucked the card in her bag. She was in the hallway when she heard her name again.

"Spellman?"

Nick stood outside his office.

"Scratch?"

"One more favor?" She waited. He gave her a rueful smile. "Write a good article about those girls, okay?"

"One for each of them," she vowed. "They deserve that."

* * *

**See? Heavy. But maybe a little sweet? Let me know what you thought! **


	5. Chapter 5

**Ready for the longest update yet? This one might even have a bit of magic in it. And certainly some "Nabrina." **

**Enjoy!**

* * *

She intently read through the words she'd just typed. She made a correction here and there, edited phrasing, checked the spelling of names. She was in her zone, in pure execution mode, one of her favorite places to be. She didn't notice the shadow that fell over her table until it spoke.

"Hey, Sabrina."

She blew out a breath of annoyance before she looked up.

"Harvey," she replied. "Can I help you?"

"I didn't mean to interrupt…" She gave him a look. He had the good sense to look bashful. "I guess I did, didn't I?"

"What do you want?" she asked, going straight to the point.

"How are you doing?" he asked. His concern was genuine. "I know you were close to some of the girls…"

"I suppose I'm better than their families," she offered. She was devastated, but she knew her grief barely scratched the surface compared to the families and friends of the deceased teenagers.

"It's pretty cool that your stories on them got picked up by the New Haven papers..."

Sabrina said nothing. She didn't think it was a career success that the detailed obituaries she had penned for each girl, nor the in depth coverage she'd provided of the accident, careful to leave out the details Nick had shared with her off the record unless they were repeated in a different scenario, had been run in a larger market. She'd rather have never had to write any of those pieces.

"You know I'm not going to invite you to sit down, right?" she asked.

"I know," Harvey nodded. "I just thought I'd check on you. I know things ended badly between us…"

"An understatement," Sabrina muttered.

"…all the same, I still care about you."

Sabrina sighed.

"I still care about you, too," she admitted. Harvey seemed to brighten at the admittance. "I assume a part of me always will, as a first love. But I don't want to be friends with you. Not right now. Probably not for a long time." She sat back in her booth. "I'm just starting to be okay, Harvey. I need you to respect my need for space."

"That's fair," Harvey nodded. He chewed his lip nervously. "Can I ask you one thing?" She raised an eyebrow to tell him to continue. "Are you… Do you…" He paused and gathered himself. "Are you and Detective Scratch dating?"

Sabrina snorted at the ridiculousness of the statement.

"Why would you think that?"

"It's just that you two seem to spend a lot of time together," he explained. "You've been sitting together at the funerals, and you always stop by his office when you're at the station. And you brought him coffee the night of the accident. I saw you two walking down the sidewalk yesterday, too… I just assumed…"

"You sound like you're spying on me," Sabrina accused.

"No, nothing like that. Not at all. It's just, you know how it is, you notice your ex, especially in a small town…"

"Nick is my friend," she informed Harvey. "He's new in town and doesn't know a lot of people. I've been sitting with him _and_ Ambrose at the funerals. I stop by his office because if I catch him in the right mood, he'll give me an update or a tip for a story. I brought him coffee the night of the accident because I was with Lydia's mom when he delivered the news that her daughter was dead and I saw how it wrecked him to do it. And I didn't know it was a crime to coincidentally be on the same sidewalk as Nick while he was, of all things, writing parking tickets. Not that I owe you an explanation."

"You don't," Harvey agreed. "I was just curious…"

"Officer Kinkle?" Cee called. He placed a bag on the counter with more force than was necessary. "Your order is ready. You'll want to eat it before it gets cold."

"Guess that's my warning to leave you alone," Harvey acknowledged. "You know, if you need anything…"

"I'll call Ambrose," Sabrina finished. "He's the police captain and my cousin, seems like a good guy to call on in a moment of need."

"Or Detective Scratch," Harvey offered. Sabrina recognized it as his olive branch. "I guess I'll see you around, Sabrina."

"See you around," she echoed.

She tried to return to her work, but she was hyper aware of Harvey leaving the diner, more shaken by the encounter than she thought she would be. She braced herself for Cee as he approached her wearing a look of concern.

"Everything okay?" he asked cautiously.

"Everything is fine," she assured him. "Harvey was just – saying hello."

"Do you need a milkshake?" Cee asked seriously. Sabrina smiled and shook her head.

"No milkshake," she assured him. "I actually need to get going soon."

"Emily's funeral," Cee nodded. "We're closing up for a couple of hours in about fifteen minutes so everyone can attend."

That was the power of a small town. They had rallied around the girls' families in every way imaginable and it would be hard to find a Greendale resident that hadn't attended each funeral to date. Stores were closing for a few hours, schools were dismissing early. It was beautiful, in spite of its sadness.

"It's the last one," Sabrina said. It was also the one she dreaded most. She had known Emily all of her short life.

"Then I suppose we all have to try to move on, heal," Cee agreed. He looked at her for a moment. He had known Sabrina since she was a toddler, considered her his family, even though he and Hilda had agreed they had no need to get married. "May I speak freely for a moment?"

"Go on…"

He took a seat across from her.

"I've wanted to say this for a long time…" he started. "Please don't get upset with me, but I never thought you and Harvey were right for one another." Sabrina raised an eyebrow in surprise. "Perhaps as bumbling teenagers, but never as adults with careers and goals. Harvey is a good person. He's a bit goofy, a little odd with his love of comics, but he's a good person. I never really saw him as a police officer, but that just goes to show you can't judge a book by its cover."

Sabrina silently agreed. If she were being honest, Harvey wasn't all that good of a cop. He was content to walk the streets, write traffic citations, and pull over to help someone change a flat tire. He always seemed to find a way out of being involved in the bigger cases when they did come along, however. If Greendale had a higher crime rate, he wouldn't have lasted as a cop. He wasn't hard enough to handle the darker sides of life. He wasn't made for the job.

Not like Nick was.

She shook her head slightly to rid it of the thought of how at home Nicholas Scratch looked in the role of detective.

"You, however, are a force of nature," Cee continued. Sabrina nearly blushed at the compliment. "You set your mind to something and it happens. You know when to push, when to hold back. You have a gift with words and telling a story. But more than that, you are loyal and kind and you love your people hard. You're a tornado in a lot of ways, yet you don't leave a path of destruction.

"Harvey wasn't your equal. He didn't want to be, either. He was always trying to be the man in the relationship, lead you, if you will. You can't be led, Sabrina. You don't want someone you have to lead, either. You wouldn't like having to drag them along behind you. You deserve someone that can stand strong by your side, both as your equal and as their own person. Harvey wasn't that person, not for you."

Sabrina played with the edges of her notebook, considering Cee's words. They were eerily similar to some of her own thoughts lately.

"You're more right than you know," she finally said. "As they say, hindsight is twenty-twenty."

"It truly is," he nodded. "I'm happy to see you feeling a bit more like yourself. I was considering cutting off your milkshake supply if it went on much longer."

She laughed lightly.

"I was a little out of control," she agreed. "But on the plus side, I can provide you with a very detailed rankings report of your best shakes, should you ever need it."

"I'll keep that in mind." He gave her hand a fond pat. "I need to start politely asking people to finish their meals and leave," he said, although the diner was already sparse with customers as most of Greendale was preparing for the funeral. "Thank you for humoring a middle-aged man."

"Anytime," Sabrina told him. "But could I suggest that you maybe do something special for Hilda sometime soon? She's been wrecked over all of this, and her being the medical examiner…"

"It's already in the works," Cee promised. "And may I suggest something in turn?"

"Well, you are speaking freely…"

"Don't overlook Detective Scratch."

Sabrina's jaw dropped.

"What is it with you people and Nicholas Scratch today?" she asked.

"Just being a casual observer," Cee said as he stood. "But there isn't hard to miss the way he looks at you – or the way you smile when he's around."

She shook her head and started to pack up her things. Her phone lit up with a text from Nick.

_Save you a seat? _

She studied the message. It was the same one he had sent her the last four days in some variation.

_Please. _

It was the same answer she always gave, and he always came through.

He replied with a thumbs up emoji.

She put her laptop in her bag and left her booth.

Nicholas Scratch consumed her thoughts as she walked towards the church.

* * *

Tears poured down her cheeks.

The church was packed, standing room only. The sound of sniffling filled the air. There wasn't a dry eye to be found as Emily's father finished his eulogy with a heart-wrenching sob. The tissues she had grabbed out of the many boxes offered at the church entrance were shreds in her hand. She reached for her purse to find the travel package of tissues she had put in there before she left the mortuary.

A pack appeared in front of her.

She gave Nick as sad smile as she took a tissue. His own eyes were shiny with tears. She had seen him wiping them away out of the periphery of her vision today, and the last four days. He removed another tissue and handed it to her, aware that one wouldn't be enough. She dabbed her eyes. He reached over squeezed her hand briefly before returning his hands to his lap, the tissues held between them.

She allowed herself to admit she wished he hadn't let go.

On her other side, Ambrose gave her a curious look she didn't see.

"Well, that was an utter gut punch," Ambrose commented as they filed out of the church a half hour later. The family had requested a private graveside burial, leaving the rest of the congregation to go about their day.

"To say the least," Nick agreed. He looked at Sabrina with concern. "How are you, Spellman? I know you were close to Emily."

"I'm worn out," she admitted, shrugging one shoulder. "I'm mentally and emotionally exhausted."

"Join the club," Ambrose muttered. It was the overall feeling throughout Greendale. Ambrose and Nick had also been pulling long hours at the station, keeping the wheels turning on day-to-day police business while also working to wrap up the accident investigation for the families.

"I think there's a stiff drink in my future," Nick agreed.

"I don't care what you do so long as you aren't seen at the station," Ambrose told him. "I'm serious on those orders, Scratch."

"I plan to obey them," Nick said. "Your cousin banned me from the station for the next forty-eight hours once I wrap up my shift today," he told Sabrina. "Seems I've been putting in too much time."

"You've hardly taken a full day off since you got here," Ambrose said. "I can't have you burning out. You've done a lot of good work over the couple of weeks, but it's been tough work. You need the break. We all do."

"I'm not sure what I'll do with myself for two days," Nick said. "Watch re-runs and wait for the next Red Sox game, I suppose."

Sabrina thought of Cee's words about Nick. The way he silently passed her tissues. How his hand had felt over hers.

"There's a double feature of classic horror movies playing at the theater tonight," she ventured. "You're welcomed to join me." She left out that she had invited Theo to go with her, but Theo had already made plans with Roz. It still stung all the same.

Nick could hardly believe his good luck. He had been trying and failing to find more excuses to spend time with Sabrina outside of running into her at the station.

"Before you answer," Ambrose interjected, "when she says 'classic,' she means black-and-white films. Old. Ancient. Terrible. Not a classic like, say the original _Halloween_ or _Poltergeist_."

"Ambrose has terrible taste in classic movies," Sabrina volleyed. "If it was made after 1980, he won't watch it, with a few exceptions. Which is his loss. Tonight's films are _Diaboliques _and _Yeux Sans Visage._"

"Translating – literally – there will be subtitles," Ambrose warned, just to annoy Sabrina. They all needed a little levity after the last few days.

"I could go for some classic subtitled French horror movies," Nick said, eyes on Sabrina. It wasn't really his thing, but he had nothing to lose. "What time?"

"Seven, sharp. If you're late, I'll go in without you. Be there earlier if you want refreshments."

"She refuses to miss the previews," Ambrose explained. "She's a real treat to go to the movies with." Sabrina glared at him.

"I'll definitely want popcorn, so I'll see you at quarter to seven," Nick told Sabrina. "I do think the previews are meant to be missed, but I'll compromise."

"Scratch, I like you more and more," Ambrose declared. "Ah, there's Prudence. I've been looking for her. I saw her in the back, standing – she barely made it out of court in time."

"Go," Sabrina said. "Quickly. So she doesn't come over here and I have to pretend to be nice to her."

"You're petty, cousin" Ambrose informed her. "Lucky for you, she's with Dorcas and Agathan and they're waving me over. I'll see you whenever." He tugged her hair. She smacked his hand in annoyance. "Have fun reading tonight, Scratch."

"I really don't like him sometimes," Sabrina told Nick as they ambled along. She had no idea where they were going, just that they were walking in the same direction and she was enjoying his company. "Shame I love him so much." Nick chuckled, both of their spirits rising as they walked.

"You know, I've met Prudence a few times now," he ventured. "I don't think she's that bad. She's whip smart, probably going to be the DA in the near future. I'd even say she loves Ambrose. Which leads me to suspect there's more between you two than high school girl drama."

"Is this the detective in you coming out?" Sabrina asked.

"All I'm saying is that all signs point to both of you being mature, successful, collected individuals that wouldn't hold onto something as trivial as to who won what high school crown in the grand scheme of things."

"Fine," Sabrina relented. "It's… more that she's with Ambrose. And has been with Ambrose for a long time."

"Forgive me for not following," Nick said.

"I worry that Ambrose is settling for Greendale," Sabrina explained. "He's so smart, Nick. So worldly. He studied at Oxford, for crying out loud. He spent a summer here while he was in college and fell in love with Prudence. He lasted another half semester before he dropped out and moved in with our aunts. Six months later, he was sworn in as a Greendale police officer. Prudence at least finished college and then law school – Yale, of course, although I'm sure she's told you all about it, it's one of her favorite subjects – but I feel like Ambrose gave up – something – to be here. I don't want him to regret his life years down the road."

Nick chose his next words carefully.

"Ambrose loves his job, Sabrina," he told her. "Not only that, he's really good at it. He lives to serve this community. I don't think he settled for anything." He looked at Sabrina. "Besides, love makes you do crazy things."

"I suppose," Sabrina relented. "He does seem to love being a cop. And he was so proud – we were all so proud – when he got promoted to Captain."

"He'll be Chief in another few years," Nick said with assurance. "He'll be a good one."

"That's his hope," Sabrina shared. "I think he's planning to propose to Prudence soon, too. Then I'll have no choice but to be nice to her."

They came to a crosswalk. Sabrina made to step off the sidewalk, but Nick put a hand out to stop her.

"Hang on a second." She noticed the traffic then, dozens of cars trying to leave the church and surrounding area. They were making little progress, jamming around the four-way intersection. "An officer is supposed to be out here directing traffic. Must have been a mix up in scheduling." He was still wearing his badge and utility belt. He opened a small pouch near his holster and took out a whistle.

"You have a whistle?" Sabrina asked, eyes twinkling in amusement.

"And I'm not afraid to use it," he said with a wink as he raised it to his lips. "Stay put, Spellman. I'll whistle you across in a minute."

He blew on the whistle and stepped confidently into the crosswalk with his hands out in opposite directions. Within moments, he had cars moving smoothly, commanding first one waiting line to go, then the next. He blew the whistle again and signaled all sides of the intersection to stop. He pointed to Sabrina, then crooked his fingers to let her and the few people who had gathered cross.

"Six forty-five," he said as she passed.

"And not a minute later, Scratch."

* * *

"I have to hand it to you, Spellman. Those were two solid movie choices. Subtitles and all." He had actually enjoyed the old movies, much to his surprise. He had a feeling that had to do with the company in the seat next to him. He glanced at her as they walked towards the exit, close enough to one another that their arms brushed. "Although I think the most impressive thing is that you didn't so much as flinch at some of those scenes."

"It takes a lot to scare me," Sabrina told him. "You were rather steadfast yourself, Scratch."

"NYPD Homicide Squad," he reminded her. "It's going to take a lot more than Christina's husband coming out of the bathtub to make me hide my eyes."

He knew what scared him. It wasn't the corpse of a dead husband in an old black and white film. It was whatever was bubbling between he and Sabrina that he could no longer ignore. He pushed the door open and held it for Sabrina.

"You know, Bravo ranked that scene with the husband 49th on their _100 Scariest Movie Moments_ docuseries."

"What was the scariest moment?" he asked curiously.

"The opening scene of scene of _Jaws." _

"Really?" He made a face. "That's what they went with?"

"I'm telling Ambrose you said that," she informed him. "We argued about it for days. He agrees wholeheartedly with _Bravo. _I think whoever came up with that list simply hates fish."

They stopped on the sidewalk outside the theater, neither sure what to do next, both sure they weren't quite ready to go home. Nick had shown up exactly on time and Sabrina had gotten to see the previews. They had shared a bucket of popcorn, their fingers brushing against one another as they reached for another handful, their forearms battling for room on the shared armrest. More than once, Nick had considered pulling out the oldest trick in the book and pretending to stretch to drape his arm around Sabrina's shoulders. He refrained, however. He liked Sabrina, that much he had admitted to himself, but he wasn't sure where he stood with her. He didn't want to mess anything up.

"Dr. Cerberus is still open for another hour or so," she said after a moment. "They've stopped serving food off the grill for the night, but we can get a milkshake."

"I could go for a milkshake," he said, jumping at the excuse to spend more time with her. "Let's go." They resumed walking. "I don't mean to bring up a sad subject, but the pieces you wrote on the girls and the accident really were incredible. You're a gifted writer, Spellman."

"Thank you," she replied, almost bashful at his compliment. "They deserved to have their stories shared, their short lives celebrated. But honestly? They were some of the hardest pieces I've ever had to write."

"The fact that you knew them so well helped you memorialize their memory. Lydia's mom told me you gave the parents laminated copies as part of a care package. That was kind of you."

"It was the least I could do, and it felt like nothing at all."

They locked eyes as they walked. Something passed between them. A recognition or a deep knowing they both felt down deep.

"After you," he said, breaking the moment to open the door to Dr. Cerberus.

"Ah! My favorite niece and my favorite detective!"

"Cee!" Sabrina greeted. "What are you still doing here? You hardly ever work the closing shift."

"Short staffed tonight," he replied. "The kids had some sort of memorial thing they wanted to go to. I think it's really a party, but I figured they've had enough to deal with this week. Let them have one night to blow off some steam."

"Definitely a party," Nick said. "In a field at a farm on the edge of town. I'd probably be breaking up in the next hour or so if I were on duty."

"So you're that cop," Sabrina said seriously. The twinkle in her eyes let him know she was teasing.

"Only in Greendale and only when the locals have heard enough of the devil's music." Sabrina and Cee chuckled, both aware that Nick had duties in Greendale that had to be mundane compared to his NYPD Homicide Squad days.

"What can I get the two of you?" Cee asked. "The grill is off, but I've still got options."

"We're here for milkshakes," Nick answered.

"I should have known." Cee led them to the counter. They slid onto stools while Cee went behind it. "Lucky for you, Detective Scratch, Sabrina is a milkshake connoisseur. We have an extensive menu, but she can give you her top recommendations."

"I'll trust her milkshake knowledge and let her order for me," he said. Sabrina gave Nick an appraising sort of look, then turned to Cee.

"He'll have a classic chocolate milkshake," she determined. "I'll take one as well."

"With a little extra whip cream?" Cee guessed.

"For both of them," she confirmed. "Thanks, Cee."

"Milkshake connoisseur huh?" Nick asked when Cee walked away. "I'm learning all sorts of things about you tonight."

"Cee's milkshakes are legendary," she informed him. "And, well, you know how girls in movies and sitcoms go for ice cream when they've gone through a breakup?" Nick nodded. "I drank a lot of milkshakes after Harvey and I broke up. They've always been my comfort food of choice, but I worked my way through the entire menu, which has Cee said, is no small feat."

"What's your favorite?" he asked. He picked up a nearby menu and scanned the page long list of milkshakes that spanned two columns.

"The coffee and donut one. Coffee ice cream, chocolate syrup, crushed cookies, and then Cee lines the rim with frosting and sticks a mini glazed donut to it." She looked a little embarrassed. "Those are for really bad days or really good days. The banana split one is another favorite."

"I do love a good banana split," Nick confessed.

"The classic chocolate milkshake is a good place to start. Consider it a baseline for all of his other milkshakes." She leaned towards him conspiratorially. "Cee makes the best milkshakes. Most of his staff does okay. But if Darcy is working, skip the milkshake and just order a bowl of ice cream. She doesn't blend them well enough."

Nick chuckled at her serious nature. Sabrina noticed a silver pendant hanging from Nick's neck then.

"What's this?" She reached out and touched the medal with her fingertips. She pulled them back quickly, surprised by her intimate gesture. Nick fingered the pendant before tucking it back into his shirt where he always kept it.

"It's a St. Christopher medal," he told her.

"For protection," she recalled.

For some reason, the necklace made her feel better. Like there was something out there looking out for Nick.

"It was my dad's." He had never shared that with anyone. "I never take it off. Other than a photo, it's the only thing I have of my parents."

"I'm glad you have it," she told him. "Both because it was your dad's, and because it will protect you."

"They say that's the idea of it," Nick agreed. He didn't much buy into the whole protection aspect, but wearing something that had belonged to his father made him feel closer to the man he had never known.

"Here we are." Cee placed a large whip cream-topped milkshake in front of each of them. "Scratch, I put two maraschino cherries on Sabrina's, because she loves the blasted things. People are hit or miss on them though, so I only put one on yours. If you want another…" Nick shook his head.

"I don't much care for them," he admitted.

"I'll take that, then."

Sabrina plucked the cherry from his milkshake and popped it into her mouth. He smiled broadly at the bold gesture. Cee beamed his approval. He and Hilda had decided they would intervene and set up Nick and Sabrina if they didn't figure it out themselves. It seemed they wouldn't need to.

"I should help clean up," he said. "You two enjoy those shakes." He left them be. Nick took his first taste of milkshake.

"Well?" Sabrina waited for his verdict.

"I was right to trust you," Nick confirmed.

Sabrina grinned and took a sip of her own milkshake. She liked being with Nick. It just felt – good. Easy, even. She wasn't working to measure up to some unattainable woman like she had now realized she tried to do with Harvey. She was just herself with Nick. Still, she didn't know much about him.

"Why did you become a detective?" she asked, deciding that was as good of a place as any to start with getting to know the real Nicholas Scratch. "Were you one of those little boys that played cops on the playground?"

"Nothing like that," Nick shook his head. "I just really liked science. When we studied DNA in biology, I got really into it. Just the idea that these tiny little molecules could tell us so much about ourselves – who we are, what we look like, what sort of diseases we're more prone to… It was fascinating. I knew I wanted to study it in college, but I didn't see myself as a guy wearing a white coat in a lab. It was a little too straight-laced."

Sabrina grinned. She agreed. Nick wasn't exactly the definition of a bad boy, although he had the looks of one. But he certainly wasn't the type to sequester away in a lab either.

"I took a forensics class my senior year and decided I'd go into crime scene forensics. A professor in college took me under his wing and helped me land a job with the NYPD after graduation."

"Where did you go to college?" Sabrina asked curiously.

"Penn State," Nick answered. "They have a top forensics program." Her eyes grew big, as he suspected they would.

"My dad went there…" He nodded.

"How do you think I had access to all of his journals?" Sabrina remembered then. Edward Spellman had marked them to be donated to his college upon his death. "What about you, Spellman?" If she was going to ask questions, so was he. "Where did you go to college?"

"Princeton," she answered. Nick was sufficiently impressed.

"There's a little more of that rivalry between you and Prudence explained."

"Shut up," she shot back with a smile that made him chuckle. "I was always writing stories and interviewing people when I was a kid. There are home movies somewhere of me interviewing Aunt Zelda and Ambrose for a news broadcast. Zelda played along, but Ambrose kept saying 'I plead the fifth' and I got mad and threw my notebook at him. Maybe he knew even then that he'd end up in law enforcement."

Nick laughed outright. "I want to see that…"

"Not a chance," she assured him. "Those videos are deeply buried somewhere in the addict. I thought about broadcast journalism for a while, but I loved to write too much to be on camera. I've never wanted to do anything other than write stories and I still love that I get to do it every single day."

"I wanted to be a magician when I was a kid," Nick shared.

"Really?" Nick nodded.

"I saw a guy performing tricks for tips in the subway when I was around five and thought it would be the coolest job in the world so I tried to teach myself."

"Can you do any magic?" Sabrina asked.

"Well…" Nick reached into his pocket and pulled out a quarter. He placed it in the palm of his hand and held it out to Sabrina. "You see the quarter, yes?" She nodded. He made a show of closing his hand and waving his other hand over it. With a flick of his wrist, he opened his hand again. The quarter was gone.

"Color me impressed," she said, eyes sparkling.

"Hang on…"

Eyes on hers, he reached out. The air charged around them as his fingers brushed along her cheek and tucked her hair behind her ears. When he pulled away, the quarter was between his fingers.

"You're something else, Scratch," she told him, her skin burning where his fingers had just been.

"You should see me pull a rabbit out of a hat," he said seriously. Sabrina raised an eyebrow.

"Can you do that?" she asked.

"No," Nick admitted, making her laugh. "I gave up my stage magician dreams before I taught myself that one."

They continued talking as they finished their milkshakes. Nick checked the time. It was minutes before midnight, and around them, the chairs had been put on top of tables and the floor was being mopped. Cee could be seen wiping down the grill.

"It's late," he said. "Where are you parked, Spellman? I'll walk you to your car."

"I walked here," she said simply.

"You walked here?" Nick repeated. "From the mortuary?"

"It's not far… Twenty minutes if you follow the path through the woods."

"You're not walking home through the woods at midnight," he informed her. "I'll drive you home."

"I do it all the time…"

"Not tonight. It's chilly and foggy."

She didn't argue. They told Cee goodbye and Nick led them to his Greendale PD SUV. He opened the door for her, ever the gentleman. She wondered about where he grew up, who raised him. His mannerisms were almost old-fashioned at times. She liked that about him. They drove to the mortuary in a comfortable silence. The big Victorian was dark when they arrived, but the porch light was on. Nick got out and walked with Sabrina to the door.

"Thank you for the ride home," she said, turning to face him.

"Thank you for letting me crash your double feature," he countered. He took a deep breath. He had made up his mind about something on the short drive to the mortuary. Now was the moment. "I had a really good time with you tonight."

"I had a lot of fun with you," she replied, smiling up at him. The air charged around them again. They were standing close, and she suddenly wanted nothing more than to close the distance between them. He took another breath. It had been a long time since he did something like this.

"I'd like to do it again," he said. "But this time, I'd like it to be a date."

Sabrina didn't know she could smile that big.

"I'd like that, Nick."

"Yeah?" he asked.

"Yeah."

She was sure he was going to kiss her. He put a hand on her waist, came a fraction closer. He started to lean in. Her heartbeat picked up.

His phone rang out.

"What the hell?" he muttered, reaching into his pocket for it. "No one calls me unless…" He read the screen. "It's Ambrose. This can't be good." He swiped his thumb across the screen to answer. "Scratch."

Sabrina watched as Nick's facial features turned to a frown. It deepened steadily as he listened to whatever Ambrose was saying. She knew, too, that Ambrose would only be calling Nick if it were an emergency.

"I'll be right there," he said. He hung up and pocketed the phone.

"What's going on?" Sabrina asked. "What happened?"

Nick studied her for a moment, debating on what to tell her. There was no real point in lying to her. She'd find out soon enough.

"There's been an apparent murder-suicide." Her eyes widened. "A Mary and Adam Wardwell, Ambrose said."

Sabrina gasped.

"No! Mrs. Wardwell… She's my favorite teacher… And her husband Adam…" she stumbled for words.

"I have to go. Ambrose just got to the scene. The sooner we can start collecting evidence the better."

"I'm coming with you…"

"Sabrina…"

An interior light popped on. Moments later, Hilda rushed outside.

"Oh! Dears!" She was shocked to see them. "I just… I have to…"

"The Wardwells," Nick supplied. "Ambrose just called. I'm on my way."

"Me, too," Sabrina tried again.

"Sabrina, really," Hilda tried as she started down the stairs. "Wait until morning…"

"She'll come whether we agree or not," Nick relented. "Fine, Sabrina. You can ride with me. But you have to…"

"Stay out of the way," she finished. "I know the drill. Let's go."

* * *

**Well? Magic? Let me know your thoughts with a comment!**


	6. Chapter 6

**A bit of a surprise midweek update? I think yes! This one is one of those "filler but not" deals - you'll see what I mean. ;) Thank you a million times for such a great response! I appreciate it so much. **

**Also - this one is a bit graphic (hence the M rating) and could be triggering. Please know I've done a lot of research and hope that I represented things accurately. I'm actually a little concerned about what people would think if they saw my Google search history while writing this story... **

* * *

Ambrose was waiting on the Wardwells' porch when Nick's SUV pulled to a stop next to Hilda's car. He frowned when Sabrina emerged from the passenger seat.

"Absolutely not," he greeted her.

"I'll stay out of the way," she fired back. "The Wardwells, though? Really?" Ambrose ignored her.

"Explanation, Scratch?" He motioned at Sabrina.

"We both know she would have shown up on her own," Nick said as he climbed the stairs. "She's going to stay out of the way and not interfere. Right, Sabrina?"

She shot him a dirty look. He had lectured her all the way to the Wardwells about what she could and couldn't do upon arrival. She was as annoyed as she was smitten at the moment.

"He did try to make her stay at the mortuary," Hilda supplied as she huffed along behind them. "You know how she is, Ambrose."

"Stop talking about me like I'm not here," Sabrina demanded.

"You're not going past this front porch," Ambrose informed her as Hilda continued past them and disappeared inside. "Don't come past this point. Don't ask my detective, my deputies, or our medical examiner a single question. I'll brief you when I feel it's appropriate. Should any other press show up, make yourself useful and pass along the same information to them."

"Can't I just…"

"No," Nick said sternly. "Either play by the rules or I'll have a deputy take you home." She shot daggers at him, but made a show of sitting on the porch swing with a humph. "What do we know?" he asked Ambrose.

Ambrose tilted his head toward the door, indicating that Nick should follow him.

"All signs point to a murder-suicide." He stopped just a few feet inside. They didn't have to go far. The bodies were in the living room. A pool of blood soaked through an old antique carpet and spread onto the worn hardwood floors below the victims. There were signs of everyday life. The TV was on, just a little too loud. There was a nearly full glass of water on a side table, a throw puddled on the floor near an armchair. This was why he didn't want Sabrina to come any further. He didn't want her to see what it looked like when life stopped abruptly. "They visited their daughter over in Riverdale today. She asked them to call her when they got home – she was worried about them driving home in the dark.

"When they didn't call within the hour, she grew worried and called them," Ambrose continued. "After a few calls with no answer, she called their neighbor – Mr. Cranke – and asked him to check on them. He's in the kitchen with Officer Mann, incredibly shaken up. He said he saw all the lights on and heard the TV, but when they didn't answer the door, he tried the knob. It was locked, but he had a spare key. Mrs. Wardwell gave it to him to hold onto as she had a habit of locking herself out of the house. He found them like this and immediately called the police."

"Thoughts on how long they've been dead?" Nick pulled a pair of plastic gloves out of the utility belt he'd strapped on as he exited the SUV, always prepared.

"Their daughter – she's been notified and will likely be here soon – said her parents left her house after dinner and helping put their granddaughter to bed, around nine. It's about a half hour drive from there to here, so that would put them home roughly around half past nine. She called Mr. Cranke around eleven. He said it took him about fifteen minutes to get himself together enough to come out of the house – he was in bed and he's elderly – and another fifteen minutes or so was spent trying to get them to answer the door until he went back and got his key. The call came in around quarter to midnight. I'd guess no more than two hours, three tops."

Nick absorbed the information as he approached the bodies, taking in every detail of the scene before him. Mrs. Wardwell had been shot execution style. Blood on a nearby coffee table that was askew told him she had hit the table at some point and without turning her over, he knew the resulting wound would be on her forehead. He moved on to Mr. Wardwell. He appeared to have shot himself in the temple and now lie face up, his eyes open and unmoving, his mouth open as though reacting to a surprise.

His eyes traveled from the gunshot wound to the gun itself. It was near the man's hand and at first glance, looked to support the theory of suicide. He took a small camera out of his belt.

"Officer Craig has been taken photos," Ambrose supplied.

"I'm going to take a few more," Nick replied. He had long ago learned he liked to have his own photographs to reference. They helped his memory, helped him pick up on additional clues he may have missed. "Was there a note? Anything like that?"

"Not that we've found." Ambrose watched Nick work, curious about his process. While he didn't _want _a murder in his community, he had harbored a desire to see what Scratch was truly capable of as a detective. The car crash had been awful, but the investigation had been straight forward, the initial theory of spread and weather proven true within days. This was a chance to see if he lived up to his billing. "We're still searching the house."

"Any history of domestic violence?" He continued to maneuver around the bodies, careful of where he stepped, taking photos and making mental notes.

"Nothing reported. By all accounts, they were happy. Mrs. Wardwell was a teacher at the high school. She retired last year. Mr. Wardwell was an archeologist, traveled a lot. He retired a few years back though, and they seemed to be content to grow old together. They loved being grandparents." Ambrose smiled sadly. "Adam showed me a photo of his granddaughter while I pumped gas just last week."

"No signs of forced entry?"

"Like I said, Mr. Cranke let himself in with a key."

Nick pocketed the camera and went back to the front door. He opened it and knelt to study the lock. Ambrose looked on curiously.

"Nick, what…?" came Sabrina's voice.

"Not now, Sabrina." He didn't look at her. He stood and closed the door. He opened it, eyes on the lock. He repeated the motion a few more times, then knelt back down to the study it closer. "Ambrose?" He took out his camera again and photographed both the door and the doorframe up close.

"Yeah?"

"Look at this."

"What is it?" It was Sabrina that was at his side.

"Dammit, Sabrina." He stood and took her by the arm. "Come on."

"What? No…" He pulled her down the stairs and out to his SUV, ignoring her protests. He stopped when they reached the passenger side, aware of Ambrose watching from the porch. "Nicholas Scratch!" she rounded on him. "Who do you think you are…"

"Right now, I'm a detective doing my job," he informed her. "I know you have a job to do, too, but I cannot have you flitting around a crime scene, interfering with evidence collection and asking questions we don't have answers to."

"Mrs. Wardwell was my teacher…"

"And now she's a murder victim." Nick knew he was being blunt. He didn't care. Sabrina needed to understand. "We were taking a chance by letting you stay on the porch, but I can't have you anywhere near that living room."

"She was my teacher…"

Her eyes filled with unshed tears. Nick understood then that it wasn't just the story she was after. It was a desire to know what had happened to someone she cared about. He caught a stray tear with his thumb.

"I know," he soothed, his voice softer. "And that's why I can't let you see what's on the other side of that door. Please. Stay out here. Let us do our job. Ambrose or I will fill you in when we can. Okay?"

Sabrina took a shaky breath but nodded. She didn't like it, exactly, but again, she understood. Nick didn't want her to see her teacher as a murder victim.

"Sit in my truck. Turn on the heat if you get cold. I can't tell you how long it'll be, but if you decide to go home, text Ambrose or I and we'll have a deputy take you. Just please, don't come back to the house."

"Okay," she agreed. "I'll wait."

He left her with a reassuring squeeze of her hand.

"If you wanted a second date with my cousin, you may have just lost your opportunity," Ambrose said when he reached the porch.

"I'd have to take her on a first date first," he replied. Ambrose snorted. Their movie double feature was a date if he'd ever saw one. "Just now has nothing to do with her being a nosy reporter. I don't want her to see her teacher like that."

"She was especially close to Mrs. Wardwell," Ambrose told him. "The woman was a mentor to her during her teen years. She liked Adam, too – he shared a lot of his photos with her, told her stories of his travels she later printed in the paper. She's probably pretty shaken up about this."

Nick glanced out at his SUV. He could see her through the windshield. Her blonde head was bowed, her face lit by the bright light of her phone. He wished he'd done more than just squeeze her hand.

"Let's just keep her from seeing her teacher with a bullet in the back of her head," Nick said. He gestured at the door. "See this?" He was careful not to touch the doorframe where the lock was.

"What am I looking at?" Ambrose asked. All he saw was a tarnished gold strike plate.

"The strike plate is bent."

Ambrose peered closer. The divot was faint but there. He wondered how Nick had been keen enough to spot it.

"And?"

"Looks like someone used a knife or something similar on it. Probably a butter knife, could be a flathead screwdriver, but I think there would be more damage if that were the case. Someone would potentially use a knife to jimmy a lock if they wanted to get in without a key."

"What are you implying, Scratch?"

"Nothing yet," he said. "I just want us to be careful not to jump to the obvious conclusion."

"Noted," Ambrose nodded. "But remember, Mr. Cranke had a key because Mrs. Wardwell locked herself out somewhat frequently. She may have tried to get herself in by other means at some point. There's no way of telling how long that dent's been there."

"Recently," Nick concluded. "If it had been there a while, it would be more tarnished." He went back inside. Hilda was surveying the bodies.

"You'll want ballistics, Scratch?" she asked.

"Full report," he confirmed. "Anything you can tell me. We're treating this as a double homicide until proven otherwise."

"Double homicide?" Officer Craig asked. He was still taking photos. Nick looked at him. He was reminded then that the officer was young, barely out of the academy. This was likely the first murder scene he had ever worked.

"You never assume suicide, no matter how obvious it looks," Nick told him, seizing the opportunity to teach him. "Treat each one like a homicide. It's easy to assume the suicide position. A suicide is quick and easy to investigate, comparatively. But if it becomes apparent that a death ruled a suicide was, in fact, a murder, you've likely lost valuable evidence at the scene if you didn't treat it like a homicide in the first place.

Officer Craig looked at Ambrose for guidance.

"What Scratch said," he confirmed. "No matter how much this looks to be a murder-suicide, we're treating it as a double homicide for the moment. Defer to Scratch from here on out." Ambrose looked at Nick. "This is his case."

* * *

Sabrina dragged herself into the kitchen, grateful that someone had already made coffee. She would need an IV of caffeine to get her through the day. She found her aunt Zelda already at the table, reading the paper.

"Good morning, Sabrina," she greeted.

"Morning Auntie," she replied. She poured her cup of coffee with a yawn.

"No news on the Wardwells in the paper today?" Zelda asked.

"Its on our website, but I filed the article too late for it to go to print." She sat down and pulled her chest to her knees. "Ambrose made Nick the lead on the case, but Nick was still at the scene collecting evidence when Ambrose and I left."

"Collecting evidence?" Zelda questioned. "I'm told it was a clear murder-suicide. No note left, but I suppose its not always possible to know why one makes the decision to end another's life and then take their own."

"Ambrose said Nick is treating it like a double homicide. Not because they think it was, necessarily, but because of some belief Nick has that suicide scenes should always be treated like homicides in case the cause of death is later revealed not to be suicide. Something about collecting evidence."

"I suppose that makes sense." Zelda turned the page and snapped the paper a bit to prevent it from folding in on itself. "Although Detective Scratch is likely overreacting. He's used to far more gruesome crimes than this."

"I hope he got some sleep," Sabrina mentioned. "We were out late, and he got the call from Ambrose when he was dropping me off. So much for him and Ambrose having a couple of days off."

Zelda put her paper down and peered over her glasses.

"You were out with Detective Scratch last night?" she asked.

"I invited him to the classic horror movie double feature at the theater last night," Sabrina explained. "We got milkshakes afterward and he drove me home."

"Interesting."

"Interesting?" Sabrina repeated. "Why?"

"You two were hard to miss at all the funerals this week," Zelda said. "Always sitting together. And I heard you took him coffee the night of the accident."

"Who told you that?" Sabrina asked in disbelief.

"I forget," Zelda waved her hand. "News travels fast."

"I'd argue that the fact that I, one of only three reporters in this town, being at the police station the night of one of the biggest news stories this town has seen in twenty years, is hardly news."

"Of course you were at the police station, darling. No one Greendale would expect you to be anywhere else during a crisis. It's the fact that you brought Detective Scratch coffee – and no one else coffee – that got people buzzing."

"I'll never understand what constitutes gossip in this town," Sabrina declared. "And I took Ambrose coffee, too."

"Well, yes…"

"I was with Lydia Fields' mom when Nick told her her daughter didn't make it," Sabrina explained. "She was the only girl still alive when he and Ambrose got to the scene. He watched her die. He saw a lot of hard stuff that night, but he also did a lot of hard stuff. The least I could do was take him some decent coffee."

"Are you dating Detective Scratch?" Zelda continued.

"It's too early for this," Sabrina stated. "I got home three hours ago, filed a story, slept for maybe two hours, and now have to figure out how to get through the day without falling asleep. I don't need an inquisition about why I took a tired detective coffee on one of the tougher days of his career."

"I'm your aunt and I'm merely curious," Zelda said, picking up her paper again. "I hardly see you as it is, what with you running all over Greendale on assignments and myself busy as mayor." She peered around the paper. "Just so you know, I wouldn't disapprove. If for no other reason than the fact that he's something to look at it."

"We're not dating," Sabrina informed her aunt. "Although…" Zelda appeared from behind the paper once more with a curious expression. "He mentioned last night that he'd like to take me on a date. I said I'd like that. Then, Ambrose called."

"I'm sure he won't forget," Zelda said. "How are you doing otherwise? With the funerals, and now this…" She put the paper down again. "As much as I enjoy being mayor, I do feel like I miss a lot in this house these days. Poor Hilda, having to examine those girls and then prepare them for their funerals. You were close to Emily and had relationships with several of the others. And now the Wardwells…"

Her guilt was palpable.

"I've had better stretches of time," Sabrina answered honestly. "Surely Greendale has hit its quota for bad luck, though?"

"Here's to hoping," Zelda agreed. "I'm making sure the fall festival later this week is top notch. We need a moral boost."

"How are _you _doing?" Sabrina asked. "As the mayor, it hasn't been a few easy weeks for you, either."

"I could use a tropical vacation and a frozen drink with an umbrella in it," Zelda said matter-of-factly. "Being mayor is a lot of shaking hands and kissing babies, but its been a lot of holding sobbing mothers and issuing empty sentiments of grief lately – empty because no matter how much you mean them, there's nothing you can say to the parents grieving the loss of their child to comfort them. I don't know how Hilda does it, being a medical examiner and preparing bodies all day."

"Can I join you on that vacation?" Sabrina asked.

"No," Zelda stated. "Should I ever get the chance, it will be entirely alone, without my adult niece and nephew squabbling like children or my sister squawking about this or that."

"What about Father Blackwood?" Sabrina's eyes twinkled. "Can he come?"

"It's too early for this," Zelda declared, mocking Sabrina's earlier words. Sabrina chuckled to herself. "What are your plans for today, anyway? Surely they don't involve your current state of dishevelment?"

"I have to go into the office," she said. "I also need to stop at the station to see if there are any updates on the Wardwells."

"What a convenient excuse to see Detective Scratch."

"It's too early for this," Sabrina retorted once more. Zelda smirked. "And on that note, I'm going upstairs to get dressed." She made to stand up.

"Not so fast." Sabrina sat back down. "There's the matter of your birthday coming up. What do you want to do this year?"

"Nothing spectacular," Sabrina shrugged. Zelda narrowed her eyes suspiciously.

"You love your birthday. 'Nothing spectacular' would be far below you."

"I want something low key this year," she insisted. "Hamburgers and hotdogs and s'mores in the backyard after trick-or-treaters."

"Hamburgers and hotdogs?" Zelda repeated in disbelief. "Last year you insisted upon a Gatsby-themed blowout to rival any party Gatsby himself would have thrown. The year before that we were all subjected to that dreadful haunted maze in Riverdale. I broke the heel of my boot in that thing, and got scolded for smoking by a teenage worker who thought he had a bit of power."

"Who wears heeled boots in a corn maze?" Sabrina asked. "I'm being serious, Zelda. I want simple this year. My family, my friends, a low key cookout. In costume."

"There it is," Zelda muttered. "Do let me know what theme you decide on before its too late to find a costume."

"The theme is costume party," Sabrina said as she stood. "It shouldn't be too hard. My birthday is on Halloween, after all."

* * *

His brow furrowed as he reviewed the Wardwell case photos before him.

Everything supported the murder-suicide theory. Every piece of evidence lined up. On paper, a beloved community member had suddenly decided to kill his wife and then himself. No one knew why. Mental illness, perhaps. Maybe a domestic dispute. They may never know why. It was a topic for the old men that met for coffee at the Main Street diner every morning to debate and the stay-at-home moms to trade gossip about while their kids played on the playground.

In his gut though, he wasn't convinced. There was nothing to suggest Adam Wardwell hadn't killed his wife and turned the gun on himself, but he couldn't shake the feeling that they were missing something. He was confident that they had been thorough in their investigation. He had stayed on the scene until dawn, collecting evidence and talking to Mr. Cranke and the Wardwell's daughter. Still, something didn't set right.

He looked up from his photos just in time to see Ambrose walk past. He dropped the photos to his desk, stretched his arms overhead, and stood. He wandered down the hall to Ambrose's office. His door was covered in Halloween cutouts and a fake spider web. Someone had stuck a large pumpkin to Nick's door, but other than a few pumpkins and mums out front, the office showed no other signs of Halloween décor.

"You're really into Halloween," Nick commented from the doorway.

"That would be Sabrina," he replied. "And her not so subtle way of reminding me that her birthday is on Halloween and that I should plan accordingly. I see you got a pumpkin yourself."

"Her birthday is on Halloween?" Nick asked.

"And it's a very big deal," Ambrose confirmed. "There's always a party. Last year it was a Gatsby blowout of epic proportions. This year she claims it's a cookout in the backyard, costumes required. I'm awaiting the twist in this plan. There is _always _a twist with Sabrina." Ambrose fixed his eyes on Nick. "I'd make sure your calendar is clear that night. If she hasn't informed you you're going to be there yet, she will."

"If I'm not here, I'm at home," Nick said. "If she wants me there, I'll be there." He stepped further into the office. "How was your career talk at the elementary school?" he asked, lowering himself into one of Ambrose's vinyl armchairs.

"There's not enough hand sanitizer in the world," Ambrose replied wryly. "You're going to the next one. Third graders will find you way cooler than me, what with all your big city stories and flashy forsensic tricks."

"I'm patrolling that fall fair thing tomorrow. Just give me one of those rolls of police badge stickers kids like and let that count." Ambrose chuckled.

"Jokes on you, Scratch. There will be a roll delivered to you tomorrow morning."

"Can't wait." He drummed his fingers on the armrest. "Hilda called. Preliminary results of the Wardwell autopsies support the murder-suicide theory."

"Yet you don't," Ambrose surmised.

"There's no reason not to," he shrugged. "I just can't shake the feeling that we're missing something."

"Such as?"

"I don't know," Nick admitted. "I've been over the evidence a dozen times. I can't find what I'm looking for."

"What are you looking for?" Ambrose pushed.

"I'm not sure," he shook his head. "I've requested some additional analysis, but it's looking more and more like we're going to close this case as a murder-suicide."

"Not every case is a murder," Ambrose reminded him. "Don't waste time searching for what's not there."

"I know that all too well," Nick said. "But my gut instincts have always been good. Something isn't right about the Wardwells."

"If there's something there to figure out, you'll figure it out," Ambrose said confidently. "There won't be a funeral. Their daughter is having them cremated. They'll have a memorial service sometime down the road and scatter their ashes in Tibet. Apparently that was a special to them."

"Am I selfish for being relieved I don't have to go to another funeral?" Nick asked.

"If you're selfish, so am I. And Sabrina. We both breathed a visible sigh of relief when Hilda told us while we stood around in the kitchen eating takeout Chinese last night. We've been to enough funerals, no matter how much we cared for the Wardwells. We'll have some time to process those before the memorial service." Ambrose fixed his eyes on Nick. He had been looking for a way to bring up the topic of Sabrina with his detective. "Speaking of my cousin…"

"Is this the part where you ask about my intentions?" Nick guessed. He had known this conversation was coming.

"Basically," Ambrose confirmed. "To be clear, I approve. But she was a wreck after everything with Kinkle and Roz and I don't want to see her like that again."

"I'm not going to hurt her, Ambrose," Nick said solemnly. "She's pretty special."

"She's one of a kind," Ambrose agreed. "But don't forget. You might be a hot shot detective, but I'm also a cop and I know how to hide a body." Nick cracked a half smile.

"Then why is Kinkle still walking around?"

He didn't like the guy. Something about him – besides his ties to Sabrina – rubbed him wrong. He thought the feeling was mutual. Ambrose leaned back in his chair and laced his hands behind his head.

"I considered it," he said. "But in the end, I reckon the guy did her a favor."

* * *

Nick nodded politely at a couple walking hand-in-hand as he passed them, ambling along in the opposite direction. He was on patrol, but so far, he had only warned a group of raucous little boys in various Halloween costumes to settle down while they fought over who would go next at the ring toss game. He kept his eyes sharp all the same. He knew she was around there somewhere.

He was passing out the damned stickers that had appeared on his desk just as Ambrose promised when she found him.

"There you are, Office Henry," he told a little boy no more than four as he helped the child attach his sticker to his jacket. He felt her standing nearby, watching. "You and your brother are officially junior members of the Greendale Police Department."

"Cool!" the other boy, a year or two older, exclaimed. "We've got badges just like you!" He pointed to Nick's badge hanging around his neck. Nick let them look at his badge, then bid them farewell.

"Can I get one of those badges?" Sabrina asked, eyes twinkling. "I'd like to use it to arrest my annoying cousin."

"I suppose I could spare one," Nick played along. "Although I'm recusing myself of helping you arrest my boss on trumped up charges."

"He used all the hot water on purpose this morning," Sabrina informed Nick. "There's nothing trumped up about the charges I plan to bring." Nick laughed and took a sticker from his roll. He pulled it from its adhesive and stuck it to the bottom of her jacket in an effort to be a gentleman. "Is there a swearing in process?"

Nick held out his left hand, palm up.

"Place your left hand on mine and hold your right hand up," he advised. Sabrina did so, her lips playing at a smile. "Now, repeat after me. 'I, Sabrina Spellman…''

"I, Sabrina Spellman…"

"Do hereby swear…"

"Do hereby swear…"

"To absolutely ignore every order of the law…"

"To absolutely ignore every order of the law…." She had to work to keep from laughing at Nick's serious expression.

"And do whatever I damn well please..."

"And do whatever I damn well please…"

"Regardless of what Detective Scratch says…"

"Regardless of what Detective Scratch says…"

She was full on beaming now, her eyes dancing.

"You are now fully commissioned as a member of the Hot Water Supply Squad," Nick told her. "Use your powers for good, Spellman." She let the laugh she had been holding back escape. He chuckled too.

"I'll never have to take a cold shower again," she declared.

"The rest of us are doomed," Nick quipped. They started to walk, their pace leisurely. "Greendale goes all out for this thing, don't they?"

Booths lined either side of the street and stretched for several blocks. There were food vendors, craft vendors, carnival games, relay races. The high school had become a haunted house and a pumpkin painting station seemed to be the popular spot for the five and under crowd. Everywhere he looked, people were enjoying the fall Friday evening festivities. It looked like a scene straight out of any cliché movie set in a small town he had ever seen.

And he happened to be the one walking through the fair with the star of the show.

"This and Summer Solstice," Sabrina confirmed. "Our shining moments as a town."

"We didn't have anything like this in New York. I'm sure I could have found something like it if I'd looked for it, but I only ever seemed to show up at street fairs after a homicide had taken place."

"Here's to hoping for a crime-free night."

"I got a tip that there could be a riot at the petting zoo later on," he told her. "There's a goat that's got some bad blood with a sheep. Add in four year olds with no patience… could get ugly."

"That could be our headline tomorrow," Sabrina mused. "Petting Zoo Riot: Goat on the Run, Sheep in Custody.'"

He glanced at her as they walked. He wondered if he would ever get used to her ethereal beauty. He was learning that it was her heart though, genuinely good and kind, that made her shine.

"How have you been, Spellman?" he asked. "I haven't really talked to you the last couple of days."

She had stopped by the station mid-morning the day after the Wardwell murders, asking for an update, and they had traded a few texts, but he found he missed her whirlwind when he had been without it for a couple of days.

"Okay," she shrugged. "I kept a low profile yesterday. Ambrose said there wasn't anything new to report on the Wardwells and honestly, I was exhausted." She looked at him. Both he and Ambrose had been sporting darkening circle under their eyes after two weeks of first the car crash, then the girls' funerals, now the Wardwell murder-suicide. "I did stop by the station yesterday morning, kind of early, and defaced Ambrose's office. I stopped by your office, but you weren't in yet."

"I saw your handiwork. I must have just missed you. I stopped by the diner for a breakfast sandwich and got cornered by a couple of the old men. They had a lot of questions about the Wardwells. Don't worry, though, I didn't tell them anything I won't tell you."

"I was about to ask…"

"I could see it in your eyes," Nick assured her with a fond smile.

"Speaking of my act of vandalism, Halloween is my birthday. I always have a party to celebrate. This year is pretty low key – just a cookout in the backyard. Costumes required. You'll be there?"

"Wouldn't miss it," Nick promised. "Although Ambrose tells me there's always a twist with you."

"Not this year," she insisted. "I want low key. Just my family and friends and an old-fashioned cookout."

"And costumes," Nick added.

"Definitely costumes," Sabrina confirmed. She glanced at Nick as they walked. He looked right at home in a pair of black jeans and a t-shirt, his tactical vest strapped on, his badge hanging around his neck. Even though he was talking to her, he was aware of everything going on around him. He took his job seriously, even when patrolling a small town festival. She found it – sexy. "You know, I really did have a lot of fun with you the other night."

Nick's mouth twisted into what Sabrina was quickly learning to recognize as his mischievous half smile.

"Is this your subtle way of reminding me that I said I'd like to take you on a date?" Sabrina shrugged.

"A girl has to ask for what she wants these days."

"And you want to go on a date with me," he stated, as amazed by the revelation now as he had been when she said yes on the mortuary steps two nights ago.

"I do," Sabrina confirmed. He stopped and turned towards her. She waited, looking up to him expectantly.

"How does six o'clock tomorrow sound?"

"Like you have a date."

She beamed at him. He silently cursed the fact that he was on duty. With her looking at him like that, he wanted nothing more than to drop everything and take her on a date right then and there. It was frightening, how fast she had managed to convince him that the world might just revolve around her.

"I'll pick you up at six, then," he said with a grin.

"I'll be ready," she assured him. "I'm looking forward it."

"Me, too, Spellman."

He was more than looking forward to it. He wanted to spend time with her, get to know her. He wouldn't hate it if he got to finish what he had started on her front porch before Ambrose called about the Wardwells.

Someone called her name.

"That's Theo," she said, glancing over her shoulder. "We have plans to meet up, eat funnel cakes, and see how lame the haunted house is this year."

"I suppose I should get back to issuing badges," he replied begrudgingly. "I have a bet with Ambrose over whether I can get rid of more of these stickers tonight than he did when he gave a career talk at the elementary school yesterday."

"How's it looking for you?" Sabrina asked. Nick smirked once more.

"I've already beaten him," he declared. "Now I just want to rub it in and claim my breakfast sandwich tomorrow morning."

Sabrina laughed outright. She had noticed that Ambrose and Nick had struck up a friendship, even if Nick was his direct report. It made her happy. Ambrose didn't have many friends outside of Prudence and her circle, and Nick was new in town.

"If things go south between the goat and the sheep, I want the exclusive."

"It's all yours," he promised. "If for no other reason than the fact that I've now met the other two reporters in this town, and you are definitely my favorite."

"I'll see you tomorrow, Nick," she said, fighting not to lose herself in his sparkling eyes and cleverness.

"I'll pick you up at six," he confirmed. "Have a good night, Sabrina."

He exhaled at he made himself walk away. He had been serious when he told Cee he wasn't looking for a relationship. But there was no denying the pull of Sabrina Spellman.

It might be the end of him, but he was going to see where it went.

* * *

**I PROMISE they will kiss soon! And I'm so sorry about the Wardwells. It had to be done, though! **


	7. Chapter 7

**Wait - what? Another update? Why, yes. Yes it is. I'm headed to Memphis for one of my best friends' weddings, and while i'm taking my laptop, I doubt i'll have time to write - we haven't all been together in one place in years. **

**But, with all the support and love from you guys... Why make you wait until I'm back in my apartment Sunday afternoon, probably a lot hungover and napping hard? I feel like i owe y'all a kiss... And an introduction to one of my favorite characters. :)**

**And here we are - date night!**

* * *

She was waiting outside when he rolled to a stop at the Spellman mortuary.

"What is it with you law enforcement types?" she asked as she descended the stairs to meet him. "You have to have a flashy street car to prove you're still tough when not in uniform?"

"Something like that." Nick smacked the front fender of his shiny black Jeep. "Or, I'd never needed a vehicle of my own in New York, and now that I do, I decided to go for the real life version of the model car I played with as a kid."

"Ambrose has a Camaro," she told him. "I remain hopeful someone will give him a speeding ticket in it." She stopped in front of him. "Thank you for picking me up."

"This is what one does on a date," he informed her. He took her in. She was stunning in a very Sabrina-like outfit – a plaid skirt and black turtleneck, tights and booties. The black headband she wore often was secured in her loosely curled bob. "You look beautiful, Spellman."

Her cheeks flushed.

"You've cleaned up well yourself, Scratch."

She had never seen him out of uniform, she realized. Even though he wore plain clothes to work, he usually had his badge around his neck or his tactical suspenders clipped into place or sometimes his tactical vest, if he were on patrol. His clothes themselves were always in the same vein, black jeans or pants, a fitted dark shirt. The night of their horror movie feature, he had still been wearing a Greendale PD t-shirt. Tonight, looking at him in dark jeans and a casual gray Henley, she hoped she could maintain her dignity.

"Shall we?" he asked. He put a hand on her low back and led her around to the passenger side. He opened the door for her and offered her his hand to help her in and she was reminded again of his old-fashioned mannerisms.

"Where are we going?" she asked once Nick was behind the wheel.

"Dinner and a movie," he replied, glancing over at her with smile. He offered nothing more. It was already dark out, but she still managed to light up her side of the vehicle. "You really are beautiful, Spellman."

"You're a smooth talker, Scratch," she replied, but she was smiling.

They made small talk as he drove through town. Sabrina shot him a curious glance when they passed through Greendale's downtown. There were no other restaurants, save for a drive-up burger and ice cream shop, outside of the few blocks that made up the town's central. He smirked to himself as he drove, sure her mind was working overtime to figure out their destination. He was surprised when she didn't ask a dozen questions.

He pulled into a narrow drive of a small house in a small subdivision across town from the mortuary. Sabrina knew the area well. Roz had moved into a house nearby after college and Theo's family farm where he still lived was less than a mile away. Nick's Greendale PD SUV was parked on the curb, leading her to conclude they were at Nick's house.

"Here we are, Spellman."

"Your house?" she asked to be sure.

"Indeed." He got out of the Jeep and met her as she climbed out of the passenger side. He offered his arm. "May I?"

"Absolutely," she confirmed, growing more curious. "What are you up to, Scratch?"

"Dinner and a movie," he said again. She realized a dog was barking on the other side of his front door as they climbed the porch stairs. "I hope you like dogs," he told her before he released her arm to unlock the door. "Just a warning, she's big, but she's friendly enough."

"Friendly enough?" Sabrina questioned. Judging by the sound of the dog's bark, big hardly did the thing justice. "What does that mean?"

"She's my dog," Nick said. "You'll see." He noted her wary expression. "Trust me. She won't hurt you."

He turned the knob and pushed open the door. All Sabrina saw was a flash of black as the dog erupted from the house. She stepped backwards several steps out of surprise. The dog launched itself at Nick, it's front paws landing on his shoulders. He stumbled a couple of steps, laughing as he greeted the dog. She was brindle in color, not solid black, Sabrina noted, her dark fur streaked with lines of golden brown. On her hind legs, she was nearly as tall as Nick.

"Platz," he said to the dog. She immediately returned to four legs. Sabrina looked on curiously. "Sitz." The word was barely out of his mouth before she sat. "Good girl." He squatted down to her level and scratched her neck. "Sabrina?"

She stood a few feet away, eyeing the dog with both curiosity and a sense of nervousness. The dog's attention was on her now, her big ears alert. She tilted her head a bit as she considered Sabrina.

"Come here," Nick motioned for her to join him. "She won't move." Sabrina inched closer to Nick. She wasn't exactly afraid of the dog, but she had a healthy respect for her. "This is Dublin," he told Sabrina. "Dublin, this is Sabrina. We like her."

"Hi, Dublin." She offered the dog the back of her hand. The dog sniffed it, then bumped its wet nose against it.

"Good girl," Nick said again as he stood. He reached into his pocket and produced a dog treat. "Give her this." He placed the treat in Sabrina's hand. The dog took the treat from Sabrina in a delicate sort of manner. Nick smiled. "She likes you."

"You sure about that?" she asked suspiciously. Dublin's gaze hadn't left her.

"Positive." He took Sabrina's hand in his. "Bleib," he said to the dog. He led Sabrina inside. Dublin stayed where she was, but followed Nick with her ears.

"Is that German?" she asked Nick.

"Yes. That's what she was trained in. I'm going to call her inside. She'll run around for a few minutes, maybe sniff you a few times, but she'll lay down and mind her own business after that." Sabrina nodded. "Heir!" Nick ordered. The dog immediately turned and trotted inside.

"I wish Salem listened like that," Sabrina commented, eyes on Dublin while Nick closed the door behind them. "She's so smart." Like Nick predicted, Dublin was trotting through the house, seemingly searching for something.

"She was my K-9," Nick said, coming to stand by Sabrina. "I adopted her when she retired."

"Retired?" Sabrina repeated. "She looks pretty young."

"She's only six," Nick confirmed. "But she was injured in the line of duty and it was decided to let her heal and retire." The dog bought Nick a slobber-covered ball. She dropped it at his feet and waited patiently. He picked it up. "Sitz." She sat. "Blieb." He tossed the ball into what looked to be the living room. Dublin watched it go, but didn't move from her spot. She looked at Nick expectantly. "Voran!" She took off after the ball. Sabrina laughed lightly.

"Do you listen that well?" she asked Nick. He snorted.

"Hardly." Dublin came back with the ball and dropped it at Nick's feet again.

"Can I?" Sabrina asked, motioning at the ball. Nick bent and picked it up for her. She tried to remember what Nick said. "Sitz." There was the slightest of pauses before Dublin lowered herself to her haunches. "Blieb." The dog gave her a wary look. She threw the ball in the same direction Nick had. Dublin stood, took a few steps, then sat down. Nick raised an eyebrow, but didn't comment. "Voran!" She took off. Nick chuckled.

"That went far better than I expected," he stated.

"You thought it wouldn't go well?" Sabrina countered.

"She's my dog," Nick reminded her. "I don't mean that just as in 'I'm her owner.' She's been with me since she was a two year old fresh out of training. She's a dual purpose dog – trained in general police dog work like tracking and protection, which is what I used her for mostly, and to sniff out narcotics. She was taught to take commands from just me. I didn't think she'd listen to you at all, if I'm being honest."

"Are you disappointed that she did?"

Nick studied Sabrina for a long moment. He shook his head with a hint of a smile.

"Not at all." He reached out and brushed a lock of hair from her eyes. "Can I pour you a glass of wine?"

"Always."

She looked around as she followed him into his kitchen. It was an older home, small and boxy. Its walls needed a fresh coat of paint and the hardwood floors had seen better days, as had the linoleum in the kitchen. There weren't many personal affects around the house, but somehow, it still felt like Nick, right down to the dated appliances and wooden cabinets.

"Have a seat," he pulled one of the two barstools at the small kitchen island out for her. She slid onto it, watching how Dublin followed Nick around, kept him in her line of sight.

"What kind of dog is she?" she asked. "A shepherd of some sort?"

"She's a Belgian Malinois," Nick answered.

He took two wine glasses out of a cabinet. He'd never confess that he'd picked them up earlier in the day while grocery shopping because he didn't have any. He was a whiskey guy, but he wouldn't serve her wine out of a highball glass. He opened a drawer, searching for a corkscrew.

"How did she get hurt?" she continued. The dog looked perfectly healthy to her.

"Things took a turn at a crime scene." He opened another drawer and pushed around its contents in search of the corkscrew he was only somewhat sure he had. "She was lucky."

Sabrina frowned.

"But if she was your K-9, does that mean you were there when things 'took a turn?'"

"I was." He offered nothing else, but opened up another drawer.

"Were you hurt?"

"No."

"What happened?"

"Shots were fired." He said it as though it had been as normal of an occurrence as a summer rain shower. "I didn't get hit, but Dublin did. She had surgery, recovered, and now lives a good life." Sabrina picked up on the shift in his tone. He didn't want to talk about it. "I can't find a corkscrew, but I think I can use a knife…"

Sabrina reached for her bag on the end of the kitchen island. She produced a corkscrew and held it out to Nick.

"I never leave home without one."

He shook his head with a grin and took the corkscrew.

"If I come across a crime committed with a corkscrew, I know who to look for."

She watched him turn the corkscrew into a bottle of wine. She bit her tongue, holding back more questions about whatever went wrong at the crime scene. The reporter in her sensed there was a story there, something that would tell her more about Nick. The rest of her sensed not to push him.

"Thank you," she said when he placed a glass of wine in front of her.

"You're welcome." Their eyes met. Sabrina pursed her lips. She thought he was going to kiss her. She certainly wanted him to. Instead, he leaned on the counter. He didn't miss how she looked a little disappointed. "I hope you like pizza, Spellman."

"I do like pizza," she confirmed. "But if you think you're going to have it delivered…"

"Delivered? Never." He took a sip of his wine. "I'm making us pizza."

"You're making pizza?" Sabrina repeated. "Like – homemade?"

"It's the only way," he confirmed. "You're going to help me."

"Is that so?"

"It is," Nick nodded. "I made the dough earlier – it needed time to rise – but we've got plenty more to do."

"You made the dough?" Sabrina clarified. "Like – from scratch? No pun intended."

"There's a joke I've never heard before," Nick retorted. "But yes, from scratch. Yeast, water, flour, the whole thing." He pointed towards a bowl on the counter, covered by a cloth. "I checked it before I left to pick you up. It's damn near perfect." _Like you, _he added to himself.

"You do magic, and you're a cook," she observed. "You're a man of many talents, Scratch."

"Don't get too excited," he shook his head. "Pizza is literally the only thing I can cook. But it's damn good."

"You'll have to prove it," she determined.

"I will," he assured her. He crossed the kitchen to the fridge. "I made the sauce earlier, too. It takes a couple of hours, and I didn't want to keep you waiting." He removed a large mason jar of sauce. "There's a saucepan in the cabinet under where you're sitting. Would you get it for me?"

Sabrina slid off the stool and opened the cabinet. It was a mess of pots and pans and small appliances with no sense of order. She found the saucepan and placed it on the counter.

"Now what?"

Nick gave her the half smile that was starting to make her weak in her knees when it appeared on his lips.

"Now, you pick your toppings." Sabrina raised an eyebrow. He kept his smile on her as he took her hand. He led her to the fridge and opened it again. "What'll it be, Spellman? Standard pepperoni and cheese? Sausage, peppers, and onions? A classic pizza margherita?"

Sabrina surveyed the contents of his fridge. There was a lot of typical guy food, she noted. Cans of beer, half empty jugs of milk, eggs. But there were also peppers and onions, sausage, blocks of cheese, anything she could think of that she might want on a pizza. Nick had left nothing to chance.

"What do you want?" she asked, figuring they would compromise on toppings.

"Sausage, arugula, and roasted pine nuts." She made a face at him. "You'll try a bite and change your mind." She looked skeptical. "We're making our own pizzas, Spellman. You don't eat pizza by the slice in Italy. You eat pizza by the pizza."

"If I'm making my own…" He nodded his confirmation. She surveyed her options again. "Pepperoni, peppers, artichokes, and olives."

"Salamino," he removed the pepperoni. "Salsiccia." Sausage. "Carciofi." He passed her an artichoke. "Pepperoni." He gave her a green pepper. "Rucola." Arugula. "And – I don't know the Italian word for pine nuts, but those are in the cabinet." Sabrina laughed and took the vegetables to the kitchen island.

"Where did you learn all of this?" she asked. He put the sausage and pepperoni on the counter and moved the saucepan to the stove.

"My Nonna. She wanted me to be able to cook for myself when I left home. The only thing I succeeded in was pizza and the occasional calzone, which is just a pizza folded in half."

"Nonna?" She was asking a lot of questions, she realized, but she couldn't help herself.

"My grandmother." Nick reached around her for his wine glass. "She raised me. She's 96 now."

"Where does she live?"

"She's still in New York." He drummed his fingers on the countertop. She had noticed he did that - made some sort of small anxious tick - when he was nervous or considering sharing something about himself. "She was diagnosed with dementia about five years ago. She's in a long term care facility. I thought about moving her closer, New Haven, maybe, but it's best for her to stay where she is, where it's as familiar as things can be for her."

She could see how much his grandmother meant to him – and how much it hurt him that she wasn't well. She put her wine down and moved closer to him. Dublin appeared, alert and ready. She ignored the dog and put her hand over Nick's.

"I bet she's so proud of you."

Nick shook his head.

"She barely knows my name most days. She probably doesn't even realize I've moved away." He took another sip of his wine, trying to appear unaffected. "I should warm the sauce…"

Sabrina stopped him. His vulnerability was written all over him. He tried to pull himself together, embarrassed that he'd let her see how much his grandmother's diagnosis bothered him, how much guilt he had over leaving her in New York.

"It's okay to be sad," she told him. "But I stand by my belief that she's proud of you." She laced her fingers through his. "I haven't known you that long, but I think you're pretty impressive. She's known you your whole life, so imagine what she must think."

He pulled her to him. She wrapped her arms around his waist to bring him closer. He rested his head against hers and closed his eyes, taking in how perfectly she fit in his arms. Again, she had known what he needed to hear, even if he himself didn't. He knew for sure his feelings for her were no longer correlated to how pretty she was.

"You're pretty special, Spellman," he said when he forced himself to pull away. He kept a hold of her hand. "I'm glad you're here."

"So am I." He squeezed her hand. She squeezed back. "Show me how to make your Nonna's pizza, Nick."

"I'll have to save showing you the dough and the sauce for another day," he told her. "Those both take awhile. Right now, we get the sauce heating and the sausage browning." Confident Nick was back. He produced a cutting board from another cabinet and a knife from a block on the counter. "Think you can handle the pepper and artichoke?"

"Pepper, yes. Artichoke? Not so much."

"I'll show you."

She set to work on her pepper while Nick worked at the stove. In the small kitchen, there was no avoiding bumping against one another as they worked. Within minutes, the kitchen was filled with the smell of garlic and oregano and the sound of sausage sizzling in the pan. Dublin stayed nearby, never quite in the way, but always with Nick in her line of sight. He showed her how to peel and cut an artichoke to get to its heart, and she used it as an excuse to be close to him. He cut the pepperoni while she grated cheese. Conversation flowed between them as they talked about their days and shared stories from around town.

"You ready to shape your dough?" he asked.

"Pass the rolling pin," she declared.

Nick snorted. He cleared off the kitchen island, retrieved a bag of flour from the pantry, tossed a couple of handfuls onto the surface, and spread it around. He picked up the bowl of dough and bought it over.

"We don't use rolling pins," he informed her. "We're doing this by hand." He removed the cloth covering the bowl to unveil two perfectly proofed mounds of dough. He placed one in front of her, then took the other for himself. "First, get some flour on your hands. It will keep the dough from sticking." She mimicked him, patting her hands in flour, then dusting them off. "Now, use your fingertips to press the dough out into a circle. Make sure you press out any air pockets." She watched him for a few moments, expertly working the dough into a quick, neat circle.

"Like this?" she asked, trying again to mimic him. Her movements were slower, choppier. Her dough didn't seem to be forming the same easy circle as Nick's.

"You're doing fine," he assured her. "Use a little more pressure." He watched closely as her dough slowly formed a misshapen oval. He came behind her and slipped his hands around her. "Like this." His fingers joined hers. She felt the electricity between them and hoped he did, too. "Watch for air bubbles."

With his help, his dough turned into more of a circle.

"How's this?" she asked.

"Perfect." His breath was hot on her ear. He moved away. She missed his warmth right away. "This next part is a little tricky. Pick up your dough like this." He scooped his pizza up lightly between his hands. "Then you sort of turn and pull." He started tossing his pizza dough artfully, maintaining the round shape even as the circle expanded and the dough became flatter.

Sabrina was skeptical as she picked up her dough and tried his turn and pull move. Her dough quickly started to lose its shape. Nick was behind her again.

"Let me." He took the dough from her and started to manipulate it back to a circle. "If I didn't know better, I'd say you were doing this on purpose," he said, his breath once more by his ear. "

"What if I am?" She leaned back, pressing her back to Nick's chest.

"Then I think I'll have to go ahead and do the next part for you." He leaned into her under the pretense of getting a better view of the dough. "You want to stretch the dough out a little more in the middle, but leave some thickness on the edges." He picked the pizza up again and stretched it as he turned the dough through his hands. When he was finished, a near perfect circle of dough was before her. "All done."

"You're an artist," she declared.

"I've got an Italian grandmother," he replied. Again, she missed him when he moved away. He quickly finished forming his own dough and procured two well-used pizza stones from under the kitchen island. He seamlessly transferred the dough onto them. "I'm going to trust you can handle this next part."

"We'll find out, won't we?" she quipped.

Nick picked up the pan from the stove and used a ladle to puddle sauce onto the center of Sabrina's dough. He used the smooth surface of the ladle to spread it evenly around the pizza.

"Go crazy with those toppings, Spellman."

He put sauce on his own pizza, then joined her in loading their pizzas with cheese and toppings. Dublin came to stand next to Sabrina and looked at her hopefully.

"Can she have this?" she asked Nick, holding up a piece of pepperoni.

"One or two," he agreed. "She has to sit first, though."

"Sitz!" Sabrina told the dog. Dublin dropped to a seated position. She offered her the pepperoni. "Good girl!"

Nick looked on, intrigued. Dublin wasn't an unfriendly dog, exactly, but she had been trained for service. Her adjustment to civilian life hadn't been seamless and at a point, she had been so overprotective of him he considered putting her back up for adoption. She seemed to like Sabrina, however, and he took that as a good sign.

When the pizza was in the oven, Nick set a timer on his phone, picked up their wine glasses, and led Sabrina to the living room. They sat close on the sofa. It was an older sofa, the kind a body sort of sunk into it. Sabrina was instantly comfortable.

"I'm impressed, Nick," she said. "Your idea of a date is, so far, very good."

"I want to impress you," he said honestly. "And I wanted to do something a little different than take you to dinner somewhere."

"I like that I don't have to sit across from you in a crowded restaurant to get to know you." Dublin trotted up to them and dropped a large yellow dog rope in her lap. "I wouldn't have made a new friend at a restaurant, either."

"She wants to play tug of war," Nick explained. He took Sabrina's wine glass from her. "Pick up the rope by one of its ends." She barely had a hand on it before Dublin pounced and snagged the other end. Her gasp of surprise made Nick chuckle. Dublin had the rope in a death grip and was waiting for Sabrina to make her move. "Just a warning, she's really strong."

Sabrina gave the rope a tentative tug. Dublin responded with a forceful pull that yanked Sabrina forward with a yelp. She let go of the rope in surprise and Dublin trotted away victoriously. Nick laughed again.

"I didn't expect that," she admitted.

"I told you - she's strong." The dog dropped the rope in his lap. "Want to play?" he asked her. She crouched down, her hind end in the air, at the ready. "Want to play?" he asked again. Dublin barked eagerly. Sabrina had a feeling this was something they did often. Nick snagged the rope and a raucous game of tug of war ensued. Nick ended up in the floor with the dog, rough housing with her as she let out playful growls and yelps between rounds of tug. "Fuss!" he finally said.

She immediately stopped her game.

"Beruhigen."

Dublin dropped her rope and went to the sofa. She jumped up and settled next to Sabrina. Again, Nick was surprised. Dublin always stayed close to him.

"What did you say to her?" Sabrina asked, her hand drifting over the dog's fur.

"I told her to heel, then to settle down." He reached across Sabrina and scratched the dog's ears. "She's a good girl."

Sabrina's eyes drifted around the room. Again, she took in the antique look of the house. She had a feeling most of Nick's furniture had once been his grandmother's. The only thing newer in the room was his flat screen TV mounted on the wall. A console below it held a collection of blu-rays and records. On either side of his record player was a framed photo.

"Are those your parents?" she asked, pointing to one of a couple on their wedding day.

"That's them," he nodded.

The room was small enough that she could easily make out their features from where she sat. He was a unique blend of them, she realized. She had his father's sharp jawline. Their mouths were the same, right down to the half smile his father wore in the photo. But his father's hair was an auburn shade of red, and his eyes a bright blue. It was from his mother that he got his olive skin, deep brown eyes, and dark hair.

"You look like both of them," she decided. "You look most like your dad, but with your mother's dark features."

"That's what everyone says," Nick confirmed.

"And is that your Nonna?" she asked, indicating the other photo. It was Nick's college graduation. A small older later with his mother's same dark features stood beside him proudly. She was petite, but Sabrina could tell she was a force of nature.

"That's her," Nick confirmed. He wore a wistful sort of smile. "That was the first time she'd been out of New York City in more than twenty years. She would say there was no reason to leave the greatest city on earth – everything you needed was at your fingertips, right down to any cultural experience you wanted. I think she could count on one hand how many times she left the city from the time her family arrived when she little."

"I've been to New York a couple of times," she told him. "School trips each time. Once in high school, once in college."

"You did a bunch of tourist stuff, didn't you?" Nick asked.

"We did," Sabrina admitted. "Both times were journalism-themed, so we went to different stations, newsrooms, that sort of thing, in between visits to the Statue of Liberty and Empire State Building."

"Maybe one of these days I'll show you the good stuff New York has to offer," Nick said, eyes on her. His hand moved to rest on her thigh. Again, she was certain Nick was going to kiss her. She shifted to face him. His fingers brushed along her jaw, then wrapped around the back of her neck.

The timer went off.

"Damn," he muttered under his breath as Sabrina sat back. Dublin lifted her head, looking at them suspiciously, almost like a parent catching their child in the act. "I've got to get the pizza out. That oven is old, and it burns stuff quickly." He squeezed her thigh before standing to leave the room. Sabrina took a moment to take a breath, then followed.

The pizza was one of the best things she'd ever tasted. Nick hadn't lied about his pizza making abilities. They traded slices after she tasted his sausage, arugula, and pine nut combination and decided she liked it, and poured another glass of wine as they cleaned up. It wasn't the wine that made her feel like she was floating, however. It was simply being with Nick.

"Want some dessert?" he asked

"Did you make that, too?" she wondered. He shook his head.

"I told you, Spellman. I make pizza and the occasional calzone and that's it." His eyes sparkled. "Go get comfortable on the couch. I'll bring it to you and we'll start the movie."

"I'll take these, then." She picked up the two mugs of coffee he'd just made them. "Hurry up, Scratch."

"I won't be long," he promised.

When she was gone, he took a moment to lean on the counter and take a few deep breaths. He was rapidly losing his ability to think straight. Sabrina filled his every sense. Her laugh alone seemed to chase away the darkness that lingered around the edges of his heart. He was charmed by the way she didn't need his help, but let him help her anyway. Her independence pulled him in instead of drove him away. She could stand on her own, and he found that incredibly appealing.

And she was smart. Witty. Kind. Beautiful. So beautiful.

Dublin shook her head, making the tags on her collar jingle.

"You like her too, don't you?" he asked the dog. She tilted her head as she listened. He chuckled to himself. "We're in trouble, girl." He scratched the dog's ears. "Big trouble."

He found her on the sofa, her legs curled under her, just like she belonged there.

"What movie are we watching?" she asked, eyeing the bowls he had in either hand.

"_Psycho," _he informed her. "The original. I have it on good authority that you're a fan." He handed her a bowl. It held vanilla ice cream and a chocolate brownie she recognized from the local bakery. He had taken the time to warm in the microwave. It was a small gesture, but it made her swoon just a little. "Not one of Cee's milkshakes, but I hope this will do."

"It will do perfect," she told him. "And so will _Psycho._ It's one of my favorites."

"You're strange, Spellman," he declared as he put in the blu-ray. "But I like it."

They sat close as they are their dessert. When they were finished, she took Nick's bowl, stacked it with hers, and sat them on the coffee table. Being bold, she put his arm around her and slid closer. He didn't say anything, but smiled down at her, and pulled her closer. She snuggled against him and smiled herself when Dublin inched her way over and placed her head in Nick's lap. He chuckled and gave her a pet, resting a hand on her fur. With Sabrina in his arms and Dublin at his side, he couldn't recall a time in recent memory when he had been more content.

"They just don't make them like this anymore," she said as the movie came to an end. She was in no hurry to move from her place on the couch with Nick, but she knew it was getting late.

"It's a classic," he agreed. He looked down at her and smiled again. "Comfortable?"

"Very," she confirmed. "So is Dublin." Dublin hadn't moved either. "How about you?"

"If I didn't plan to be a gentleman, I'd stay right here." His fingers played through her hair. "But I should probably take you home soon."

He had been weighing his odds all night. He wanted her to stay. He wanted to take her to his bedroom and get to know every part of her. But he also wanted to see her again. She wasn't the kind of girl a guy slept with on a first day. She was the kind of girl a guy walked to her door and kissed goodnight.

"If you insist."

She didn't move. He intended to be a gentleman, but that didn't mean he couldn't kiss her. He pulled her closer and used his free hand to tilt her chin up to him.

"Thank you for letting me take you on a date," he said. "I plan to do it again."

He leaned in then and, finally, his lips met hers.

It was magic.

Something inside of him that he hadn't even known was wound tight unraveled. He pulled her closer, deepened the kiss. He didn't want it to end. She let out a content sigh and moved one of her hands from his chest to his neck. She parted her lips for him, moved her hand from his neck and into his hair. When he finally pulled away, he reconsidered his stance on being a gentleman.

"I hope you plan to do that again," she said.

"Over and over again," he confirmed. "Starting now." He kissed her again.

It was nearing midnight when he finally took her home.

"That was a prefect date," she declared. They walked up the porch stairs holding hands. Dublin trailed behind them. "And you, Nicholas Scratch, could have a career making pizza if that whole detective thing you do doesn't work out."

"I'm pretty hopeful my pizza skills will be limited to making them in my kitchen for a pretty girl." He turned to face her once they reached the door. "Will I see you around tomorrow?"

She shrugged.

"Tomorrow is Sunday, and I'm not working, so I don't have much of an excuse to stop by the station."

"Turns out, I'm also free tomorrow." He put an arm around her and pulled her close. "I'm finally getting those days off this weekend."

"Well, I was thinking about going for a hike," she ventured, her hands on his shoulders. "The leaves are at their peak for fall colors, and the weather is supposed to be perfect. Think you and Dublin might want to tag along?"

"What do you think, Dublin?" Nick asked the dog. "Want to go hiking with Sabrina tomorrow?" Dublin tilted her head. Nick looked back at Sabrina. "I'll take that as a yes."

"I'll pack us a lunch."

"I'll pick you up."

Their lips met again. Her small figure fit perfectly against his more solid body. His hand buried itself in her hair to keep her close. She slipped her arms around his neck and held on tight.

The porch light blinked on and off twice. Giggling and the sound of footsteps running could be heard on the other side of the door.

"Ambrose!" she groaned. "And Prudence. I hate them both."

"I probably owe them a thank you," he said. "I'm still trying to be a gentleman."

Sabrina considered him for a moment, then shook her head. "I don't think you could be anything other than a gentleman, Scratch." She knew now that his mannerisms likely were attributed to being raised by his grandmother who was already nearing seventy when he was born.

"You might be the one that does me in," he told her. He brushed her hair away from his face. "I'll see you tomorrow, beautiful."

"I'll see you tomorrow," she echoed. "And you, too, Dublin." She gave the dog another pat. Nick kissed her one last time before he descended the stairs, Dublin trotting behind him.

Inside, she found Ambrose and Prudence trying and failing to maintain stoic faces.

"I hate you both," she declared from the parlor doorway.

"We were saving you from having your face sucked off," Prudence said.

"Rather, we were saving my detective," Ambrose amended. "Scratch is an asset to the station, can't have him being mauled by my cousin."

"You're lucky he's a gentleman," Sabrina spit back.

"But is he?" Prudence countered with a raised eyebrow. "I believe one Officer Kinkle to be quite the gentleman, but I never saw him kiss you like that."

"I'm making myself a cup of tea and going to bed. I assume I'll see you _both _in the morning."

She spun on her heel, leaving them laughing at her expense.

In the kitchen, she put a kettle on to boil and sat down at the kitchen island while she waited. She replayed the night in her head, a faint smile dancing across her lips as she thought about Nick and how confident he was in the kitchen, how vulnerable he was when he talked about his grandmother, how gentle yet passionate he was when he kissed her.

Prudence was right. Harvey had never kissed her like that. She had kissed exactly one other person since her breakup with Harvey, a guy from Riverdale she met at a party Theo had dragged her to in an effort to cheer her up. She had freaked out, made a dramatic exit from the party, and vowed to never show her face in Riverdale again – although she went back a week later for a story. That kiss, too, had been sloppy, at best, and a total mistake.

Harvey had always been – sweet. Vanilla, if she had to describe him. He kissed her politely and when they made love, it was always the same, only just fulfilling enough at best, her left wanting more more often than not. She hadn't slept with Nick, but just if kissing him made her body hum - she was still humming fifteen minutes after he left her - she could only imagine what it would be like to slip between the sheets with him.

The kettle whistled. She poured the hot water over her tea bag and took the mug upstairs. She changed into pajamas and crawled into bed with her tea. She picked up her phone to find Nick had texted her.

_I think Dublin is looking for you. She's sniffed every inch of the living room. _

She smiled.

_Tell her I'll see her tomorrow – you too. :) _

She waited, watching the bubbles that indicated he was texting.

_We're looking forward to it. Sleep well, beautiful. _

He included a sleeping emoji.

Salem jumped onto her bed and curled up on her pillow.

"You could learn to get along with a dog, right Salem?" she asked the cat, reaching out to give him a scratch. He meowed in response. "That's what I thought."

* * *

**Dublin. Basically Nick's familiar, if they had those in this world. :) But what about Amalia...? **

**Let me know how you felt about this one - and if you'd like a slice of pizza right about now!**


	8. Chapter 8

**Sounds like you guys liked date night! And Dublin. :) **

**Moving right along... We've got a bit of a graphic moment here (M rated, remember?), but we're getting into the heart of the story now. Here we go... **

* * *

She had a bit of a spring in her step as she climbed the stairs to the library.

She was sore in a good way from her hike with Nick the day before. They had driven to a trail an hour out of Greendale and took their time following the path, pausing for lunch at an overlook and making out by a stream during a break. Dublin had diligently stayed right with Nick, even when she was off leash, but she gave her fair share of attention to Sabrina as well

Nick had ended up staying for dinner – along with the rest of the Spellmans, Prudence, Cee, and Father Blackwood- and had coffee on the porch with her while she drank her tea. He had been more reserved in his shows of affection when they were with her family, but alone, his hand held hers, his arm was around her, his lips on her.

She didn't hate it.

Today, Monday, it was back to reality.

She was surprised when she pulled the library door and it didn't open. It was just after eight, and Cassius always unlocked the library exactly on time. She tried the other door and found it locked as well. Figuring he was running late, she took out her keys and found her library key. She was a frequent visitor, always researching for a story, and after a while, he had simply given her a key, told her he'd known her her whole life and trusted her implicitly, and to come and go as she pleased. She tried to use the library during business hours only, but it had come in handy a time or two.

All the lights were off when she entered. She fumbled for the light switch she knew was just inside the door and the old library was flooded with florescent light.

"Cassius?" she called out.

No answer.

She went to the small back room that held the microfilm machine and turned it on. The ancient machine took a while to warm up, so she wandered back into the library in search of a book she needed on the town's history.

The minutes ticked by.

She started to wonder where Cassius was, if he was okay. With the book in her hand, she decided to check his office, just in case he had came in and she hadn't heard him. He would have seen her in the microfilm room, however, and it wasn't like him not to say hello and ask if she needed help.

"Cassius?" she called as she approached his office. "Are you here?"

She reached his office. The door was ajar. She pushed open the door and turned on the overhead light, intending to look over his desk for any sign that he had planned to be in later, or perhaps find a way to contact him. Her eyes blinked for a moment, adjusting to the brightness.

She screamed.

* * *

"You're chipper this morning," Ambrose commented.

"I had a good weekend," Nick replied. "A couple of days off was needed."

"I had a good weekend, too, and I'm not practically skipping to work on a Monday morning." Ambrose looked at his detective as they meandered in the direction of the station, breakfast from Dr. Cerberus in one hand, coffee in the other. "Might I assume these dates with my cousin went well?"

"That's a fair assumption," Nick agreed, not quite willing to tell Ambrose just how well things had gone with Sabrina. "My dog likes her."

"I'd be more impressed if Salem liked you."

"Salem let me pet him last night," Nick told him. "I'm well on my way." Ambrose chuckled.

"That cat hates everyone except Sabrina," he shared. "He tolerates Hilda, because she'll give him table scraps, but that's about it. I wouldn't worry too much about impressing that creature. Although you should have brought your dog to dinner. Sabrina told us all about Dublin over breakfast yesterday morning, and here we didn't get to meet her."

"I dropped her off at my house on the way back to the mortuary," Nick said. "She was tired, for one, but she's a big dog. I didn't want to scare your aunts." His phone rang out. He unclipped it from where he wore it on his tactical belt. "Speaking of Sabrina…" He slid his thumb to answer. "Good morning, beaut… Sabrina."

Ambrose rolled his eyes at Nick's effort to cover up his pet name for Sabrina. He could care less what he called her, so long as he treated her well. He took out his own phone, intending to text Prudence.

"Sabrina, slow down…" He gave Nick a questioning look. "Sabrina, I can't understand you." Nick stopped, a frown developing as he listened to whatever Sabrina was telling him.

"Is she okay?" Ambrose asked, sensing something was wrong. It stung just a little that she had called Nick and not him. He had always been her first call when she needed something, even when she was with Harvey. Nick didn't answer him.

"Sabrina, listen to me." Nick's tone had changed. He was urgent now, businesslike. "Don't touch anything, you do understand me? Stay right where you are. Don't move. I'm on my way. Ambrose is with me. We're not far away."

"What's going on, Scratch?" Ambrose demanded as Nick hung up.

"Sabrina's at the library." He was already moving quickly in the direction of the building a couple of blocks away, all thoughts of anything other than getting to Sabrina gone. Ambrose kept pace. "She went looking for the librarian. She said he's in his office. Dead."

"Dead?" Ambrose repeated. "Cassius was getting older, but…"

Nick paused for just a moment, making Ambrose do the same. He lowered his voice so as not to be heard on the small town street.

"He's been shot, Ambrose. Murdered, if what Sabrina said is true."

"Holy…" he started, shocked. Another thought occurred to him. They started moving again. "Wait. Sabrina. Is she okay?"

"She's terrified," Nick said, moving still faster. "She's okay at the moment, but if whoever done this is still in the building…"

Ambrose was saying something about calling the station, but all Nick could think about was getting to Sabrina.

He dropped his coffee and breakfast trashcan as he passed and broke into a run.

* * *

"Sabrina!"

"Nick!"

He appeared at the end of the hallway, gun drawn, Ambrose on his heels with his gun raised to their rear. Nick clicked his gun to safety, pushed it into its holster, and rushed to her. He grabbed her by the shoulders.

"Are you okay?" he demanded, searching her head to toe for any sign at all that she was hurt. She was shaking, and tears poured down her cheeks, but he saw no sign of physical injury.

"Nick… Cassius…"

Ambrose pushed past them to enter the office after assessing that Sabrina seemed okay, despite being shaken to her core. He trusted Nick to take care of her.

"I know," Nick soothed, torn between his need to do his job and his need to comfort her. "I know." He allowed himself a moment to pull her into his arms. "I have you," he whispered. "You're safe." He kissed her hair. "You're okay."

"Detective?" Ambrose re-appeared, looking grave. Nick knew he had a job to do. The sound of the backup Ambrose had called as they ran to the library could be heard entering the building.

"I need to secure the crime scene," Nick told Sabrina. "We'll do a sweep of the building, too, to make sure its empty. I can't let you leave, but we'll have you wait elsewhere."

"Nick… Who would…" She was lost for words.

"I'll find whoever did it," he promised, not even sure it was a murder without seeing the scene himself. "I'll have to ask you some questions in a bit, but for now, I need to get in there with the body." He led her down the hall and found and empty room that looked to be someone else's office. "Stay in here, okay?" I'll have someone come sit with you."

"Nick…"

He chanced a moment to kiss her briefly.

"Stay put," he said again. "Don't talk to anyone, don't leave the room. I'll be back as soon as I can."

He left her then, feeling torn between his desire to stay and comfort Sabrina and the adrenaline that coursed through his veins every time he got a new case. He entered the office to find Ambrose standing with his hands on his hips.

"I've sent the others to sweep the building and block off entrances. Hilda's been called, too." He nodded at the body on the floor. "He's been dead since last night, I'd guess. Shot in the back of the head. Rigor mortis has set in, and the blood around the wound looks to be dry. Hilda will be able to give us a better idea of his time of death."

"What was he doing here on a Sunday evening?" Nick wondered out loud. With plastic gloves on, he crouched to survey the body, agreeing with Ambrose's analysis that the man had been dead for several hours, and most certainly murdered. "The library is closed on Sundays, right?"

"Technically, but he was known to let people in at odd ours for school projects, things like that. There are cameras. Surely those will tell us something."

"What's his story?" Nick asked Ambrose. "Any sort of past here?"

"He's been the town librarian for thirty years or more. Born and raised here, never married, no kids. He was the definition of a pillar of the community. First one at church on Sundays, always taking books to kids to encourage literacy, taught half of this town how to read. He had a minor riot on his hands when he didn't have more than three copies of one of those _Fifty Shades _books and all the stay at home moms had to wait to read it or buy a copy, but that's really the only moment I can think of when he was less than a favorite community member."

"People often have parts of their lives we don't know about," Nick mused. He stood and moved to Cassius' desk. "They owe debts or have secret affairs. Suffered a heartbreaking loss or have been living with some big secret."

Ambrose watched Nick survey the contents of Cassius' desk without touching anything. He wondered, vaguely, if Nick was talking about himself.

"How's Sabrina?" he asked.

"Shaken up. Upset. Confused about why someone would do this." Nick sighed heavily. "I put her in an office down the hall. I hated leaving her, but I've got a job to do. I'll have an officer sit with her until I can question her."

"It's tough, isn't it?" Ambrose asked. "Being torn between a case and the people you care about?"

"You have no idea," Nick muttered. He pushed thoughts from New York down as he worked. A post-it note on the desk caught his eye. "Shit."

"What?" Ambrose was at his side.

"Looks like the library cameras are down." He pointed to the small piece of paper that was cramped with notes from what appeared to be a conversation with the security company. "This note says a call was placed four days ago and repairs scheduled for two days from now."

It was Ambrose's turn to utter a curse.

"We'll request footage from the surrounding businesses," he said. "We might get nothing out of it, but we might see something useful."

"I want every inch of this place searched," Nick said. "Fingerprints, photos, anything that might be evidence logged."

"Captain?" Officer Craig spoke from the doorway. "We've searched the building. Other than Sabrina in the office down the hall, its secure."

"Good," Ambrose nodded. "You've roped off the entrances?"

"Yes, sir. There's a crowd gathering out front, though. They're asking questions."

"Don't answer them," Nick inserted. "Put some gloves on, Craig. You're helping me. We'll start with an initial walkthrough." The young officer had impressed him at the Wardwells. He wanted him on the case.

"Yes, sir," Craig replied again. He reached into his own utility belt for a pair of gloves, gritty determination on his face.

Nick took out a small notpad and jotted down a few initial notes. He was certain it was a murder. He was also certain the murder weapon wasn't in the small office. Harvey Kinkle appeared in the doorway.

"Captain, what do you need?" he asked.

"To figure out who murdered Cassius," Ambrose answered. Harvey's eyes traveled from Ambrose to the body on the floor. Nick watched the color drain from the officer's face.

"This is a murder scene, Kinkle," he stated. "If you can't handle it, I suggest you walk out of here now."

"It's just… It's Cassius…" He fixed his eyes on Nick. "You're not from here, Scratch. You wouldn't understand."

"I understand you've known Cassius for a long time," he replied. "But I also understand that this is a murder investigation. This office is too small to have onlookers in here. You look like you're going to throw up. I can't risk you contaminating evidence if you decide to vomit."

"Scratch is right," Ambrose said, jumping in to diffuse the building tension. "It's too small of a space for more than he and I and Craig. Sabrina is down the hall. Go sit with her…"

"No," Nick interjected. "Get Officer Spriggs and start fingerprinting all the entrances and identifying anything else that might be evidence – tables, computers, all of it. Leave nothing untouched. And send Officer Mann in here."

"Captain?" Harvey deferred to Ambrose. "If it's all the same, I'll take my orders from you." Nick glowered, but said nothing.

"Do what Scratch said," Ambrose decided. "Get Spriggs and fingerprint the place. Send Mann to Scratch." Harvey left with another filthy look at Nick. Ambrose turned to his detective. "Scratch? What the hell was that?"

Officer Craig stood quietly, a camera in one hand, an evidence marker in the other, taking in the scene between the detective and the captain, not sure whether he should stay or go.

"Sabrina's upset enough, and you're going to send Kinkle to sit with her?" Nick challenged. Ambrose realized his mistake. Nick was right. Harvey was the last person Sabrina would want with her.

"You're right," he amended. "I suppose that's why you want Mann?"

"He's calm and collected and as far as I know, isn't her ex-boyfriend."

"Fair enough." Ambrose pursed his lips. "Remember, Scratch, this isn't New York. This is Greendale. Murders don't happen here. And victims aren't anonymous. They're family. Friends. Teachers." He looked at Cassius' body. "Librarians."

"I get that," Nick said, although he had a hard time relating to the concept. New York was big and as Ambrose put it, anonymous. He occasional worked a murder scene of someone he knew, but only because they were in the system and his path had crossed theirs before. Greendale was small, interconnected. He thought he might like it, but he didn't quite fit into it. Not yet. "But Greendale or New York, that doesn't change the fact that there's a murderer on the loose."

Ambrose sighed. On that account, Nick was right.

"I'm going to go down the hall and check on Sabrina," he decided. "I'll be back in a few minutes."

Nick and Craig worked diligently, logging evidence, taking notes and photographs. Nick crouched by the body again, surveying the surrounding area for any sign of fibers or hairs or other evidence that might give him a clue as to what the hell happened. He noticed a small piece of wood just under Cassius' shoulder. He peered closer. It was a scrabble piece. He took several photos of it before he carefully flipped it over. It bore the letter 'W.'

"What's that?" Craig asked.

"A Scrabble tile," Nick replied. He placed an evidence marker next to it and took another photo.

"You think its evidence?" Detective Scratch fascinated him. He admired the man's process, his instincts. He wanted to learn from him.

"Maybe. Maybe not. It's worth noting, though. It's always worth noting." Something about the game piece pulled at him, but he couldn't figure out what it was. It went like that at crime scenes sometimes. He didn't know at the time why a piece of evidence called out to him, but it almost always became clear down the road.

"The library has a lot of board games," Craig supplied. "It could be a stray piece Cassius found lying around and picked up with the intentions of returning it to the box. Or maybe he was even playing Scrabble back here for some reason."

"We'll check the Scrabble box for missing pieces," Nick decided. "I'll have Kinkle do it when he finishes fingerprinting." It would keep him out of his way – and away from Sabrina.

"You don't much care for Kinkle, do you?" Craig asked.

"I care for Sabrina more." That's all he offered on the subject. Hilda's voice drifted down to the hall, apologizing for taking so long to get to the scene having had to leave the grocery store and drive to the mortuary to get her kit. "Settle in, Craig. We're going to be here a while."

* * *

"That's all I can do here," Hilda said with a weary sigh. "Lividity leads me to believe he's been dead twelve, fourteen hours, but, I'll need his body at the morgue to do anything further. Where do you stand on transport?"

"Scratch?" Ambrose asked, deferring to Nick. His job as Captain was more administrative in nature – he had the next year's budget glaring at him on his desk whenever he had time to get to it, and a policy review was waiting in the wings. Nick was the one in charge of the scene.

"We've gone over this place with as much detail as we can," Nick decided after a few moments. "We're safe to move him." He rubbed a hand over his face. "I'm going to go talk to Sabrina, see what she can tell me. Come on, Craig." Officer Craig diligently followed him. "Give me just a second," he said when they reached the office Sabrina was in. "I'll call you in before I start questioning her."

"Yes, sir," Craig nodded.

He found Sabrina sitting in a swivel chair, her knees pulled to her chest. Zelda was with her, having used her influence as mayor to get past the barricades. Someone had bought them tea and muffins, although Sabrina's was mostly untouched. She sat up when she saw him.

"Mann, you can take a break," he said, dismissing the officer. He went right for Sabrina. "Hey, Spellman." He knelt by her chair and looked at her, eyes full of concern. Hers were red and puffy and he didn't like it. "How are you doing?"

"Detective Scratch, I hope you're coming with an update that says you know who killed Cassius, and that my niece can go home," Zelda interrupted. "She's been sitting here for hours."

"Two hours," Sabrina corrected. "Just two, Auntie."

"You're traumatized…"

"Aunt Zelda, please…"

"Mayor Spellman, I can't tell you much about the murder right now," Nick said with finality. "I can tell you we're doing everything we can to find who done this. Sabrina can go home soon, but I do need to ask her a few questions first."

Zelda huffed.

"Hurry up, then." She sat back and crossed her arms. Nick wanted to send her out right then, but he knew with his position as lead detective and the fact that it was Sabrina that found the man and likely no secret that they'd been spending time together, it was best to have a witness with them until she had given her statement.

"How are you doing?" he asked again. "Talk to me, Spellman."

"I'm…" she faltered for words. "Cassius…" He leaned up and kissed her forehead because it was the only thing he could do to comfort her. "Who would do something like this to him, Nick?"

She wanted an answer. He wished he could give her one.

"We'll find them," he promised her. "Sabrina, I want to let you go home, but I have to ask you some questions about what you saw first." She nodded. He kissed her forehead again and stood. "Mayor Spellman, I'm going to have to ask you to step outside."

"Absolutely not…"

"Auntie Z, it's fine," Sabrina jumped in. "Nick is just doing his job."

Nick stood and opened the office door.

"Officer Craig will be joining me," he said. "Mayor Spellman, if you would?" Zelda glared at him, but left without protest.

"I'm sorry about her," Sabrina tried. "She's in shock…"

"It's okay," Nick told her. "A lot has happened over the last few weeks." He shut the door once Officer Craig was inside. Sabrina saw the moment he shifted from Nick to Detective Scratch. He carried himself a little different, a little harder. He perched on the desk while Craig stood nearby. "I'm going to ask you a few questions about what happened. Officer Craig may have some, too. We're going to record the interview. You can request a lawyer, if you'd like one."

Sabrina shook her head. "I don't need a lawyer."

"Any questions for us?" She shook her head again. "Okay. Craig?" Craig turned on the recorder. "Detective Nicholas Scratch and Police Officer Darren Craig, Greendale Police Department, Greendale, Connecticut. This recording documents the interview of Sabrina Spellman, witness in the homicide investigation of Cassius Morgan. Date, October 26, 2019. Time," Nick paused to look at his watch. "Ten twenty two AM." He looked at Sabrina. She looked resolute. "State and spell your first and last name?"

He hated treating her the way he had treated countless other witnesses over the years. He wanted to hold her, let her know she was safe.

"Sabrina Spellman," she said. "First name S-A-B-R-I-N-A, last name S-P-E-L-L-M-A-N."

"Sabrina, can you tell me everything you remember about this morning?"

Sabrina took a big breath. Nick waited, patient as ever. He was generally patient with innocent witnesses, but with Sabrina, he would wait all day.

"I got to the library a few minutes after eight," she started. "The doors were still locked, which was odd. Cassius always unlocked the doors exactly on time. I have a key, though. I'm here so much to research articles for the paper that he gave me my own key ages ago. I let myself in. It was dark, so I turned on the overhead lights. I called out for Cassius, but there wasn't an answer, so I went back into the microfilm room and turned on the machine.

"I'm doing a feature story on the history of Greendale and its witch trials for Halloween. Cassius has – had," she corrected herself, "decades upon decades of articles and other material archived. I use the microfilm all the time for research." She shook her head a bit. "Anyway, the machine takes a long time to warm up because it's so old, so I went out into the library to find a book I needed."

She picked up an anthology on Greendale. She still had it with her.

"I decided to go check Cassius' office, in case he had come in and didn't hear me. It was dark in the hallway, but the lights popped on – they're motion censored. His office lights were off, but the door was cracked open. Maybe I'm too nosy for my own good, but I thought I'd check to see if he left anything on his desk that said he wasn't coming in today. He's always right on time, and its unlike him to be late. I pushed open the door, turned on the light, and I saw him lying there, face down. There was blood…"

She shuttered a little. Nick flexed his fingers to keep from going to her.

"Then what?" he prompted gently.

"I screamed, and then I called you. You and Ambrose got here within a few minutes. Less than five, I'd say."

Nick nodded.

"Did you see anyone around the area as you walked to the library? Anyone mulling around on the steps or on the sidewalk?"

"I saw people, but it was just the usual suspects going about their day. Mrs. Mullins was on her way to the bank, where she works. I saw a couple of the old men that hang out at the diner. I saw Cee putting a sandwich board outside his shop, Officer Kinkle and," she stumbled over the word, "Roz going into Dr. Cerberus. Nothing unusual, no."

"Would you say you know Cassius well?"

"Maybe a little better than some, but I spend a lot of time at the library, always have. He's been the librarian my entire life. He watched me grow up. He was kind, intelligent. Helpful. He gave me a key because I was always hanging out on the steps, waiting for him to open to do research or else begging him to stay open late or open especially for me."

"When was the last time you saw Cassius?" Nick asked.

"Friday night at the festival," Sabrina answered easily. "I didn't talk to him, but we traded a friendly nod. He was signing people up for library cards and passing out candy and little paper books. The last time I talked to him was Thursday, though. I was using the microfilms again and he had a book he thought would help me with my research – and another book he thought I'd like just because." She smiled a little. "He did that a lot for people – pulled books he thought they might like for the next time they visited."

"Any ideas of what Cassius may have done in his free time?" Nick continued.

"Honestly? No." Sabrina shook her head. "I saw him at the library and at town events. He came to the mortuary sometimes for the parties my aunts throw from time to time, but I don't know what he did outside of the library."

She felt terrible about that now. Cassius had always been there to help her with research or tell her stories about the Greendale gone by. She had even thanked him for his help and support when accepting her award for her coverage of the Grundy murders. She had never bothered to really get to know him past the man who seemed to know everything about books and her hometown.

"Did he have anyone special in his life? Friends, family?" It was Craig that asked the question this time. Nick nodded once to show he was thinking correctly.

Sabrina shrugged. "I don't know," she answered honestly. "I know he wasn't married and didn't have kids. He never mentioned anyone and I didn't ask." Her eyes filled with tears. Nick made a fist to tame down his urge to go to her this time.

"When you got here this morning, did you hear anything out of the ordinary?" Craig continued. "Maybe someone else moving around in the building?"

"Nothing," Sabrina answered. "It was quiet. Eerily quiet, honestly."

"Was there anything out of place when you walked in?" Nick asked. "Anything that might have indicated something was amiss?"

"It was just – the library. It's deep cleaned every Saturday after closing, so it smelled clean and all the chairs were put back at the tables perfectly. It's always like that on Monday mornings. That's part of why I like coming in so early on Monday's – it truly feels like a blank page. A fresh start."

"Is there anything else you want to tell us?" Nick pressed. "Anything at all? Anything that might not seem like a big deal, but stands out to you? Any little thing you have helps us find who did this."

Sabrina thought for a moment, playing her morning back in as much detail as she could recall it.

"Well, I guess, there's one thing… It's probably nothing, but I noticed and thought it was odd…"

"Go on," Nick encouraged. He leaned forward slightly in anticipation. Craig did the same, the voice recorder moving closer to Sabrina by a fraction to ensure every word was captured.

"The board games on one shelf were sort of messy," she remembered. Nick was careful not to meet Craig's eye. Sabrina was sharp. She would pick up on the fact that she'd just given them an important piece of information. "Not overly messy like when the younger kids have gotten into them, but just – off kilter instead of stacked neatly like the rest of them. I thought that was weird. They cleaned everything Saturday afternoon and the games are usually re-stacked neatly at the end of each day. Cassius told me once they even go through the games on the weekends to make sure all the parts are there."

"Anything else?" Nick asked. Sabrina shook her head.

"I can't think of anything else. I hope that was helpful…"

"You helped tremendously," Officer Craig offered.

"You did," Nick agreed. "We might have to ask you to come to the station for more questions, but for now, you've given us plenty." He looked at her for a moment. "Thank you, Sabrina."

She understood he was thanking her for not only answering their questions, but for allowing him to be Detective Scratch instead of Nick with her.

"I just want to help," she said.

"You're free to go home," Nick said, standing from his perch. "Sabrina, I do have to ask you not to report on the murder. You can write a tribute piece, if you'd like, but since you're a witness…"

"I won't report on this one," she promised. "I've written enough about death the last few weeks. I'll write a tribute, but this is someone else's story."

"Let's get you home," Nick decided. Craig ended the recording and opened the office door. Ambrose and Zelda were waiting just outside.

"Is she free to go?" Zelda asked.

"Get everything you needed?" Ambrose asked at the same time.

"Yes to both," Nick told them. "She gave us a lot to work with, and she's free to go home." He looked at Sabrina. She still looked shaken, almost as though she weren't quite sure where she was going or what she was doing. "I don't want her alone, though. Mayor Spellman, will you be with her?"

"For a bit, yes," Zelda confirmed. She rubbed Sabrina's arm in a comforting motion. "But I assume there will be a press conference sometime today?"

"I'm planning to call one at four o'clock," Ambrose said. "Will that work for you, Scratch?"

"I can come up with something to say by then," he agreed. He looked at Sabrina. "I can't leave yet, but I can have Mann take you and Zelda home…"

"I drove," Zelda said. "No need for a police escort."

"What about the crowd outside?" Harvey appeared in the hallway. Nick shifted closer to Sabrina, whether out of possessiveness, jealousy, or protection, he wasn't sure. "They somehow know Sabrina was a witness. If they see her come out, they'll be the ones hounding her with questions." He smiled at Sabrina. "Might be a nice change of pace."

His attempt at a joke fell flat.

"Why don't you exit from the back?" Ambrose suggested.

"That's a grand idea," Zelda agreed. "Come, Sabrina. You've had enough of this place for the day."

"I'll walk you out," Nick said.

"Sabrina?" Harvey asked. "Are you okay?"

There was a pause as the group waited for Sabrina's response.

"I'm okay enough." Everyone there knew it was a lie. She wrapped a hand around Nick's bicep, feeling the need to be closer to him. Harvey tried not to stare. "I just really want to go home right now."

"Let's get you home," Nick said, moving to guide both Sabrina and Zelda towards the back entrance. "I'll be right back."

"Stay right here," Zelda said when they reached the narrow alley behind the library used for trash pickup and the occasional delivery for the businesses that lined it. "My car is just down the block. I'll bring it around."

Nick was grateful for the moment alone with Sabrina.

"Come here." He didn't hesitate to pull her into his arms. She wrapped her arms around him and held tight. Her shoulders shook, giving away the fact that she was crying again. "I have you," he soothed for the second time that day. "It's going to be okay. You're going to be okay."

"It's just… Cassius…"

She was still having a hard time putting it into words. Nick wiped away her tears.

"I'm going to find out who did this," he promised her. "When I do, it will be a very long time before they see any sort of freedom." She nodded, trying to believe him. "I really don't want you alone when Zelda leaves." He pulled her back to his chest. "Call Theo to come sit with you while she's at the press conference."

"I'll be okay," she told him. "Theo is at work in Riverdale, and besides, I won't be alone. Hilda will be there. If I need her, she's a loud yell or a phone call away."

Nick knew better than to argue. Zelda's luxury sedan pulled into the alley.

"Stay put this afternoon, Spellman," he directed. "I imagine you'll get some requests for comment, especially once the press conference happens. I'm going to do everything I can to keep them from hounding you."

"I'm not talking to anyone," she assured him.

"Good." He kissed the top of her head. "I've got a long day and night ahead of me, but I'll check in on your later, okay?"

"Okay," she agreed, begrudgingly pulling out of his embrace. "Don't forget to eat."

"Don't worry about me, Spellman," Nick shook his head with a fond smile. Of course she was concerned about him. He couldn't help himself. He gave her a short, sweet kiss that he needed as much as she did. "Go home, beautiful. I'll talk to you later."

He tucked Sabrina into Zelda's car with another promise to check on her later and headed back inside. Craig met him just inside the door.

"Sabrina was right about the board games," he updated Nick. "I checked it out after she left the office. I took them into evidence." He looked at Nick seriously. "The top board game was Settlers of Catan. The next one was – Scrabble."

Nick pursed his lips, mind racing.

"Let's get back to the station," he finally said. "We've got a lot of work to do."

* * *

**Murder. In Greendale. My oh my... Let me know what you think of this one! And feel free to throw out any theories you've got! I love reading the speculation! **


	9. Chapter 9

**I'm pretty obsessed with some of your theories about Amalia and the murderer. Please, keep them coming! I'm also real into the little details some of you pick up - like Ambrose being a *little* jealous that Sabrina called Nick. :) **

**Shall we dig in a bit more?**

* * *

Ambrose found her settled into an armchair next to the fireplace, a book in one hand, a cup of coffee in the other.

"You look cozy," he greeted.

"I am," she informed him. She wore a pair of leggings and an oversized cardigan. The glasses she only wore when her eyes felt tired were perched on her nose and her hair was messily pulled back from her face with her favorite headband. She had long ago wiped away what little makeup she had left after crying on and off throughout the day. She adjusted the throw over her lap and took in Ambrose's weary appearance. "You look awful."

"Thanks, Cousin." Ambrose lowered himself into the armchair opposite her. "Coffee? You picking up Scratch's caffeine habit?"

"It was the only thing that sounded good," she shrugged. "There's leftovers in the fridge. Tomato soup and an assortment of cheeses to make your own grilled cheese."

"Zelda?" he guessed.

"She tried," Sabrina confirmed. "She's been rather motherly all afternoon. I'm glad she's gone upstairs to read she's been driving me insane. Hilda left for Cee's a bit ago. She said she will be back for breakfast. I think she just needed to get away for a while."

Ambrose nodded his agreement. He knew how hard the last few weeks had been for him as a police captain. He had no idea how Hilda was holding it all together.

"How are you doing?" he asked. "It's just you and me – no aunts to pretend to be strong for. You saw something awful today. How are you coping?"

"Honestly, I don't know," Sabrina admitted. "I don't think it's fully hit me. The part where Cassius is dead certainly has. It's all I've been able to think about. But the fact that he was murdered…" She eyed Ambrose. "It was definitely murder, right?"

"Definitely murder," Ambrose confirmed. "I love you, but I'm not telling you anything else at this point."

"That's fine. I told Nick I wouldn't report on this one, and I'm not. Hunter Tucker is getting the byline on this round. But don't think I won't be asking questions."

"I'd expect nothing less," Ambrose muttered. "Still, Sabrina, you saw a murder victim today. That's not easily forgotten. I've only seen a few in my career – perks of Greendale, I suppose – but I remember every single one. Vividly." A haunted look passed over Ambrose. "I imagine Scratch is either haunted by ghosts or incredibly good at compartmentalizing what he's seen."

Sabrina said nothing. She wondered often just what Nick had seen in his career. Judging by her Google search of him, she supposed it was a wonder he slept at all.

"There's a murderer running around Greendale," she finally said. "A shiver went up her spine. "It's just so hard to believe."

"Scratch will find the person that did this." Ambrose was resolute. "He was buried in evidence when I left, had Craig with him."

"He's texted me a few times, checking in. I'll be surprised if he comes out of his office at all over the next few days."

"I told him he had to go home by ten tonight, get some sleep. I don't know that he will, but he's been all business since eight o'clock this morning. I did meet the dog, though. He went home long enough to change his shirt and bring her back with him. She's – big. Well-behaved. But big."

"She's sweet," Sabrina said. "Once you get past her size."

"I'm not sure I'd turn my back on her, but sure, we'll go with sweet." Sabrina tried to hide her smirk. Ambrose didn't much like animals, but try as he may to hide it, he was downright terrified of dogs.

Ambrose studied Sabrina again.

"You called Nick."

She raised an eyebrow.

"What?"

"When you found Cassius, you called Nick."

"Should I have not done that?" she countered.

"Calling Nick was the right thing to do," he nodded. "It's just – you've always called me first. Even when you were with Harvey, you called me first. As much as I thought you and Harvey had long ago outgrown one another, you can't deny that he would have come if you called, but whether it was a flat tire or a need for a ride home after too much to drink with Roz, you always called me."

"Are you – jealous?" Sabrina asked, trying to understand.

"No," Ambrose shook his head. "I'm actually – relieved, if I'm being honest. Nick literally dropped his breakfast in the trash – untouched, might I add – and took off at a run to get to you. Not the murder scene, Sabrina. You. As your cousin and I suppose a pseudo older brother, its good to know that there is someone that would drop everything for you."

This time, it was a warm feeling that ran along Sabrina's spine.

"Nick was just the first person I thought to call," she said. "Honestly, Ambrose, I don't know that I would have called anyone else, even if Nick weren't a detective. I just knew he would be there."

"Is it safe to say things are serious between the two of you?"

"They could be," Sabrina confirmed. "We haven't talked about it, but I think things could be serious between us."

"I told him last week he had my blessing," Ambrose told her. "I like the guy. I still think there's something there, in his past, that he's either holding on to or that's following him around, but he's a good guy. A damn good detective. Maybe a little brusque for some of the town's folk, but he'll come around."

"There's definitely something there," Sabrina said, thinking of his parents, his grandmother. His life hadn't been the easiest. "But I agree. He's a good guy."

"I suppose I'll heat up some soup, give Prudence a call. I need to get some work done on the next fiscal year's budget, too, before I turn in. Otherwise one Mayor Spellman might mount my head as a trophy. I plan to be gone before everyone else comes down for breakfast – can't let Scratch have all the fun. But I'm here if you need me."

Sabrina smiled softly.

"Thanks, Ambrose."

He stoked the fire before he left the room, leaving her to her thoughts. She alternated between trying to read a few pages of a book and watching the flames dance in the grate, her thoughts a jumble of Cassius, Nick, Ambrose, the Wardwells, Harvey.

She had never intended to end up back in Greendale. For as long as she could remember, her dreams were bigger than the small Connecticut town. She wanted adventure. She wanted to travel the world and tell as many of its stories as possible. She thought she might move to Washington, D.C., after college, maybe work as a political reporter for a while. She had considered New York, too. She had only been to the city twice, but she had loved it. But there was London. Paris. Singapore. Berlin. Shanghai. Hong Kong. Sydney. So many options. So many opportunities.

She hadn't counted on falling in love with Harvey. Even when she was in high school, she had thought, surely, it would be just that – a high school love that would be nothing more than a sweet memory when she looked back. But the heart causes the head to do dumb things, and the next thing she knew, she was a college freshman with a long distance boyfriend.

Harvey deserved credit for being a good boyfriend during their long distance relationship. He made the trip to Princeton to see her often, always answered her phone calls, never made her question his feelings for her. While she had flourished at college, he had gone through a time of uncertainty, unsure of what he wanted to do with his life. He had worked in his father's now defunct mine for a while, considered going to art school. She had been a bit surprised when he announced plans to go through the police academy, but he seemed to do well so she let it go.

When she graduated Princeton, she came back to Greendale with the intentions of having one last summer in her hometown before she moved on, started her career. She and Harvey had fought a lot that summer. He was a newly minted member of the Greendale PD, she wanted him to pack up and follow her around the world. Ultimately, she had stayed, not because of Harvey, but because her Aunt Zelda had been diagnosed with breast cancer and she simply couldn't leave while Zelda went through harsh treatments and struggled day in and day out. The then-editor of the _Greendale Gazette _had offered her a position over coffee at Dr. Cerberus, she had accepted, and now, a few years later, she was next in line to become the paper's editor. She didn't exactly hate it, even if she occasional wondered "what if?"

Her thoughts drifted to the day Harvey came to the mortuary and tearfully confessed that he had slept with Roz. He had been honest – he had felt something for Roz for a long time, and couldn't pretend anymore – and it had broken her heart. Now, she thought it was the betrayal of Roz that hurt the most. She could see in hindsight that she and Harvey had simply outgrown one another years before they actually broke up, like everyone seemed fond of pointing out these days. Now, she really just missed her best friend. Theo was a wonderful friend, but he wasn't Roz – her oldest and longest friend.

Still, she wondered if it were all playing out as it was meant to. She didn't know where things were going with Nick, if they were going anywhere at all, but she had known almost instantly that there was something there that wasn't just friendly. There was something in the way he looked at her. The way he pulled her into his arms. The way he opened up without meaning to, always with a moment of hesitation before he let go and let her in a little bit more.

It had been a hard few weeks. First the girls, then the Wardwells, now Cassius. An accident, a tragic ending to a couple she had loved dearly, and a murder of one of the kindest men she had ever known. She owed half of her journalism career to Cassius in some regards, his research capabilities and overall knowledge second to none. Her heart stung as she thought of him, lying face down, dead by someone else's hand.

She sighed heavily and stood from her chair, noting the late hour. She made a cup of tea and climbed the stairs to her bedroom. She checked her phone for the first time in ages, hoping to see a message from Nick. There were several texts, ranging from Theo checking in on her to Hunter Tucker asking again if she was _sure _she wouldn't give him a quote, but nothing from 'Scratch' as she had put him in her phone.

She was sitting in the middle of her bed, sipping her tea and debating on whether she would be able to sleep that night or perhaps if she should check in on Nick when there was a soft tap at her door.

"Cousin?" Ambrose called.

She stood and went to her door. She locked it most nights, a habit she developed when she and Ambrose were in the middle of an ever-escalating prank war that spanned an entire summer years ago and culminated when Ambrose set a raccoon loose in her bedroom in retaliation for caterpillars in his bed. She barely had time to glimpse Ambrose, a weary Nick standing behind him, before Dublin was on her, jumping to greet her the same way she had greeted Nick the night of their first date.

"Platz!" Nick ordered. Dublin dropped to her feet. Sabrina smiled though, and scratched the dog's ears. Dublin leaned into her touch.

"Look who I found pulling into our drive at nearly eleven," Ambrose quipped.

"I thought you'd gone to bed," Sabrina replied, raising a pointed eyebrow at Ambrose.

"He had." Prudence stood in Ambrose's doorframe at the end of the hall, looking smug. Ambrose grinned and shrugged.

"See you in the morning, Cousin, Scratch." He continued down the hall and disappeared into his room with Prudence.

"I wanted to check on you," Nick said once they were alone. "I happened to pull in behind Prudence. Ambrose let me in, but I debated all the way over here as to whether I should call you from the driveway or knock and risk waking everyone up."

"Hilda is at Cee's, Zelda sleeps like the dead, and I wouldn't care if you woke Ambrose up." She took a step towards him. He pulled her into his arms. She looped hers around his neck. "I'm glad you're here."

She felt his weight sag against her as the day's events finally caught up with him. He brought her even closer, she tightened her arms around him. He kissed her hair.

"How are you doing?" he asked, his temple resting against hers. "Talk to me, Spellman."

"That's a popular question today." She pulled away just enough to look up at him. "I really don't know how to answer. I'm – sad. Shocked. Confused. Maybe even a little scared."

"All of that's fair. You went through a lot today."

"How are you doing?" she countered. "You've gone through a lot today, too. You've gone through a lot over the last few weeks."

He exhaled and let her go, but took her hand in his.

"I'm tired," he admitted. "I worked long hours in New York, but it's been a few months since I've had hours like this." Sabrina didn't say anything, but she wondered just how much time passed between the time Nick left the NYPD and the time he joined the Greendale PD. "I'd be lying to you if I said I didn't enjoy having a couple of cases to work. I love being a detective, investigating, putting it all together, arresting the guilty party. But I'm trying to do things a little different this go around and add onto that the fact that everyone in this town knows everyone else and wants answers yesterday…" he shook his head. "I'm not making a whole lot of sense."

"You're exhausted," Sabrina recognized. "Come sit down."

He didn't protest. She led him to her bed and climbed in, positioning herself so she was leaning against the headboard. He hesitated for just a moment before joining her. She smirked a little.

"Worried about getting caught?"

"A little," he admitted. "I know we're adults, but I feel like I'm sneaking into my high school girlfriend's bedroom."

"Prudence shacks up with Ambrose every other night and joins the aunties for breakfast in the mornings. Zelda is having an affair with Blackwood. And Hilda and Cee are determined to never marry, but they sure do spend a lot of nights together. I think you're okay, Scratch."

He chuckled a bit. He was already a little too comfortable, propped up against Sabrina's pillows, her sitting cross-legged by his side.

"I'm still trying to be a gentleman," he told her. "Trying, being the operative word. Although as tired as I am, I don't think there's any risk of my act blowing up in my face tonight."

Sabrina smiled and tousled his hair. He closed his eyes for a moment, relishing in her touch. Dublin sat at the side of the bed, looking at them with hopeful eyes.

"Come on, Dublin." Sabrina patted the bed, indicating that it was okay for the dog to join them. She didn't move. "Up!" she tried. "Come on, girl." Dublin cocked her head to show she was listening, but didn't move. "Nick? I know there's a magic word."

"Hopp!"

Dublin sprang onto the bed as though she had wanted nothing more than to join them. She turned her large body in a complete circle and lay down.

"Hop?" Sabrina asked. "Really?"

"It's 'hup,'" he corrected. "With a 'u' instead of an 'o' and two 'p's.'"

"No matter. She's up here now." She reached over and gave the dog another pet.

"I think you're smitten, Spellman."

"Dublin's got a pretty hot owner," Sabrina said seriously. She could have sworn Nick blushed. She moved around so she sitting thigh-to-thigh with Nick. He put an arm around her. "Salem looks thrilled." She pointed to where the cat sat on top of her wardrobe, glaring at the dog.

"She won't hurt him," Nick said. "Part of her training – she doesn't pay any attention to cats, rabbits, squirrels…"

"She listens only to you and only when spoken to in German."

"And to you it seems." Nick jostled her lightly. She smiled again and rested her head on his shoulder.

"I'm glad you're here," she said again. "This is what I needed."

"Same on both statements." He kissed her head again. She leaned up and kissed his cheek in return. "I've been thinking about you all day, Spellman. Worrying about you. Missing you. I hated that I couldn't be with you this afternoon, especially after I had to question you."

"You had a job to do," she reminded him. She pursed her lips. "You have a murderer to catch."

"I'll catch them." His number of solved cases far outstripped the unsolved ones. "The initial evidence review told enough of a story. A few days, some analysis, I'll figure it out." He made sure to sound confident, for Sabrina's sake, but in actuality, whomever pulled the trigger had made a neat job of covering their tracks. All he could do was wait for forensics and hope there was something there. "I'm mostly concerned about the 'why.'"

"Do you think it was random?" That's the question that kept popping up. Was Cassius a targeted victim? Or was he an innocent person in the wrong place at the wrong time?

"Off the record?" Nick countered.

"Off the record," Sabrina confirmed. So far, she had held true to not revealing details of their off the record conversations in her articles. He trusted her completely.

"I don't think it was random. I have absolutely no evidence to believe that it was a targeted attack, but my gut tells me it wasn't random. Everyone I've interviewed today has said the same thing about Cassius – that he was a good man, quiet, but active in the community, a booklover, knew everything there was to know about the history of Greendale. That's not the kind of man that has a target on his back. But I can't quite let it go."

"Do you trust your instincts?"

"I do," he confirmed. "I always have. They always lead me right." He caught his bottom lip between his teeth for a moment. It was that moment of hesitation that told Sabrina Nick was about to open up a little more. "When I haven't listened to my instincts, things haven't gone well. I know I have to be practical and go where the evidence leads me, but the evidence never tells the entire story."

"It sounds like there's a case in which you didn't follow your instincts," Sabrina deciphered.

"Something like that." Nick didn't offer anything else. He played with her hair. "Something else off the record?" She nodded, listening, taking in every word. "I ruled the Wardwells a murder-suicide and closed the case. It's what the evidence says. It's what Hilda's reports say. It's what every other officer that responded to the scene says. But I can't quite accept it. It doesn't feel right."

"Why not?"

"I can't shake the feeling that I'm missing something. I dragged my feet on closing the case, but Ambrose was leaning on me to wrap it up, and their daughter was waiting. There was nothing else, no reason to not close the case. So I did. But I don't feel like I did it justice." He sighed and ran the hand not wrapped around Sabrina through his hair. "Maybe I was looking for something that wasn't there in the first place. As gruesome as the Wardwells and Cassius' cases are and as horrific as the accident scene was, I've seen far worse in New York. Maybe that's made me skeptical of what should be an easy case to solve."

"You're a good detective," Sabrina told him. "If you think there's something more there, I'm willing to bet there is.

"I need to let it go," he said. "On the Wardwells, at least. I don't know enough about Cassius yet." He kissed the top of her head. "I'll figure it out."

She tapped her fingers along his chest, her mind back to another scene from the day that kept replaying over and over whenever she let her thoughts drift, even for a moment. Nick let his eyes close, resting them for just a moment.

"Nick?"

"Hmm?"

"You'll be careful, won't you?" Her tone made him open his eyes. "Investigating, I mean? You'll – wear a bullet proof vest and all that?"

"You worried about me, Spellman?" There was a teasing note in his voice.

"It's just… today, when you got to the library, you and Ambrose had your guns drawn. I keep thinking about that moment. I was so relieved to see you then, but later, it hit me how dangerous your job is. I mean, I know it is. We worry about Ambrose, always, in the back of our minds. But, you… I just thought, what if? What if whoever did that to Cassius was still there? What would have happened? Or what if you simply pull someone over for speeding someday and they pull a gun on you? All the what if scenarios I could possible think of have come into my head today."

Nick put his words together carefully. This was a conversation he had had before. He hadn't handled it well. This time, he was determined to do it differently.

"My job can be dangerous," he agreed. "I won't pretend its not, and that there's not a chance that I could go to work one morning and not come home that evening." She tensed in his arms. "But if we're being fair here, the same thing could happen to you. Those girls went shopping for homecoming dresses. They left laughing and happy and never came back."

"Are you supposed to be making me feel better?" Sabrina asked. "Because you're not." He pulled her closer. She draped an arm over his stomach and rested her head on his chest.

"The point I'm trying to make is that I know my job is dangerous and that the risk of something happening to me is higher than if I, say, went to my office at the bank every day. But I've spent hours and hours in training to do my job well and safely. I will always do everything I can to be safe. But I took an oath to uphold the law and keep my community safe, and that might mean my life over theirs." Sabrina's stomach made a weird sort of flip. Ambrose had taken the same oath and she worried about him, but something about Nick putting his life on the line shook her to her core. "Sabrina, had whomever shot Cassius still been in that building today and it came down to you or me, I'm going to choose you every time."

Somehow, both a shiver and a sense of warmth ran through her. Nick seemed to sense it and pulled her still closer. He kissed her forehead. She loved that he was affectionate. She was already falling fast, but every sweet kiss on the forehead or to her hair pushed her further down a path she didn't want to have to reverse on.

"Just promise me you'll be careful?" she asked again. "Lie to me if you have to, but promise me."

"I'll be as safe as I can." He knew himself. His reviews from superiors were always glowing – except for his tendency to rush headlong into a potentially dangerous situation. He ran a hand through her hair. "I've got incentive to come home safely."

"That's the best I'm going to get, isn't it?"

"Afraid so, Spellman."

She lifted her head off his chest.

"You know, Scratch, you haven't kissed me properly." Nick smirked.

"I haven't, have I?"

"You should do something about that."

"I think I will."

When their lips met, the stress of the day melted away. He held her close, finding a sense of comfort he hadn't felt in a long time. It was good, he thought, having someone to come home to, someone to lay in bed with, talk about his day with. He had never really had that before. He thought he might be starting to understand what the hype about relationships was all about.

When they pulled apart, Sabrina settled back into her place at his side, head on his chest, his arms around her.

"I should go home," he said, eyes closed as he relaxed ever further into her pillows. "It's late."

"Stay a few more minutes?"

The way she asked made it hard for him to turn her down.

"A few more minutes," he agreed. "But just a few. I'm fading fast now that I've stopped moving."

"Stay here, then."

"Sabrina…"

"Stay, Nick." She snuggled closer. He felt torn. He wanted nothing more than to stay right where he was, her in his arms, Dublin asleep at their feet. But he didn't want to make a bad impression on her aunts or even Ambrose, no matter what she said about Prudence, Blackwood, and Cee. "Stop overthinking it. Take your shoes off and get comfortable."

"Your aunts…" he weakly protested. "Ambrose…"

"I told you – my aunts couldn't care less, and Ambrose is your friend, just as much as your boss. And I do believe he's given us his blessing."

He sighed. "You make a good argument, Spellman. But what about Dublin?"

"What about her?"

"She'd have to stay, too. I don't know how your aunts would feel about that…"

"Zelda loves dogs," Sabrina told him. "She's had beagles for years. She lost her last one to old age a couple of months ago and is waiting for her breeder's next litter to bring home another one. Hilda adores you and as long as you let her feed Dublin a strip of bacon or something at breakfast, she won't care, either. And Dublin isn't a normal dog."

"Not a normal dog?"

"Well, she's a K9, for one," she pointed out. "And she just seems – smarter, more humanlike. Besides, I'm really comfortable and it's been a long, tough, emotionally exhausting day. It just seems like more trouble than it is worth to walk you downstairs."

"You're going for the jugular, Spellman," Nick half-heartedly accused. She knew she had him. "I am tired…"

"Get comfortable, Scratch," she said. "You're not going anywhere."

* * *

Something cold pressed into her cheek.

"Hmmm what, Salem?" she mumbled, brushing away the intrusion. It happened again, this time followed by a whine. She blinked her eyes open. Dublin was standing by her bed, ears pitched forward, her eyes trying to convey something. "Dublin?"

At the sound of her name, the dog whined again then trotted to the other side. Sabrina heard another sound, this one a soft moan. She rolled over to find Nick sound asleep beside her, but in the grips of a nightmare. His face contorted and his body jerked as he reacted to whatever was happening in his dreams.

"Nick?" She propped herself on her elbow and reached out a hand to smooth his brow. "Nick?"

"Mal…ya…." He groaned. "No!"

"Nick." She grazed her fingers over his cheek. "Nick, wake up." He jerked his head and groaned out another unintelligible word. "Nick!"

He startled awake and grabbed her by the wrist, eyes wide and fearful. Dublin whined again.

"It was a dream," she soothed, ignoring his tight grip on her wrist. "You had a bad dream. You're okay."

"Sabrina!" He released her wrist and sat up in bed. Dublin whined next to him. He absentmindedly scratched between her ears and let out a long exhale. "I'm sorry," he shook his head. "I was… Dreaming…"

Sabrina sat up and turned on her bedside lamp. She noted the time. It was just past two in the morning.

"Dublin woke me up." She wanted to reach out, hold him, comfort him, but she sensed he needed space right then. "She nudged me, whined. I woke up, then she went to your side of the bed." The dog stood looking anxious and, Sabrina knew, she was waiting for an invitation. "Hopp!" She sprang onto the bed and settled next to Nick, her head in his lap. He kept petting her.

"I was dreaming," he said again, as though trying to convince himself. "That's all." He looked at her then. She saw confusion and, she thought, fear, in his features. "I woke you up."

"Technically, Dublin did," she reminded him. She considered him. "Do you want to talk about it?"

He bit his lip, thinking. She waited, giving him the option to say no.

"Remember how I told you some days on the job are harder than others? How some stick with you longer than others?" She nodded, remembering him telling her those things first in the pouring rain at the accident scene and then in his office the night the girls died. "Sometimes those things come home with me and sneak into my dreams."

"You said something about an… Amelia, maybe?" she prompted. She assumed it was a victim connected to one of his cases. She thought some of the little color left in his face drained away.

"I don't know about that," he shook his head. He ran a hand along Dublin's coat. "It was just a bad dream." He finally looked at her. "Are you okay? I didn't mean to grab you like that…"

"I'm fine," she assured him. "What about you?"

He finally let whatever wall he had put up around him when he first woke up come down. He reached for her and guided them back down to the pillows.

"I'm okay." She could tell by the way he held her he wasn't quite telling her the truth. There was something almost desperate in the way he kept her close. "I really didn't mean…"

"Nick, you were dreaming," she assured him. "I know you would never hurt me."

"Never," he promised her. He pressed one of his kisses to her hair. "Never, Sabrina." He released her and leaned over her to turn the lamp off. He returned to his place next to her and pulled her back to him. She settled with her head on his chest. His embrace was tight, warm. She could feel his heart, still beating a little faster than normal, under her cheek. "Go back to sleep, beautiful. I'm okay."

"I don't quite buy that," Sabrina said carefully. "You can talk to me, Nick. Off the record, always."

"It was just a bad dream. That's all. I'll fall back asleep in a few minutes." He gave her a squeeze. "It helps that you're in my arms."

She lifted her head to kiss him.

"I'm here," she said as she laid her head back down. "I'm not going anywhere."

He held her still tighter.

"I'm not going anywhere either," he promised, thinking of her earlier worries and the dream he'd just woke from. "Sleep, Sabrina. I'll see you in the morning."

She was asleep soon, her breath even, her body warm against his. He felt Dublin stretch at the end of the bed. He let out a long exhale, shaken from his dream. He'd had it before, many times over. But this time, Sabrina had been there. And again, he'd been too late.

He brought her still closer.

He wouldn't be too late again.

* * *

**As a few of you have said, "a little crime, a little cute." - we're all about balance around here. **

**How are those theories shaping up, friends? **

**Let me know! :) **


	10. Chapter 10

**Remember that M rating? This update is one of the reasons - it could also be a difficult for some to read. But I hope you enjoy it all the same!**

**This is essentially "part 1" of an update - it was a bit too long together, and they had a nice break point. I'll post that one tomorrow! **

* * *

"Why are the Wardwells on your evidence board?"

"In memoriam," Nick replied without looking away from his computer.

"Scratch."

"I closed the case, Captain." Nick clicked print on a file before he finally looked at Ambrose. "You signed off on it yourself."

"I don't buy your explanation for a moment."

"Think what you want." Nick pulled the paper from the cheap printer stashed under his desk. "I just got the initial forensics on Cassius…"

"I thought we already had DNA," Ambrose interjected. "There was nothing…"

"That was a basic DNA workup," Nick dismissed. "This is a more in-depth analysis. The lab sent over a summary and will send the full report later this afternoon."

"Anything good?" Ambrose continued to be surprised by Nick's investigative skills. He knew of ways to test and analysis evidence – and had the connections to make it happen – that the Greendale PD could only daydream about before his arrival.

"I'm not sure." His eyes skimmed the page. "A lot of it I already got from Hilda or the initial DNA analysis. There's more detail here, though." He stuffed it into a manila folder labeled with a case file number. "I suppose its time for us to head over to the church?"

"If we want a seat," Ambrose confirmed.

"Did the kids work out who has to police the town while we're at the funeral?"

There had been a near riot when the officers on duty realized all of them planned to attend Cassius' funeral and there would be no one to patrol Greendale if they did. It was a moment in which he had been all too happy to remain in his office, reviewing the librarian's murder. He had no interest in the administrative tasks that fell under Ambrose.

"I made them draw cards," Ambrose revealed. "If they were going to act like children, I was going to treat them like children. Lowest cards had to stay. Kinkle and Craig will be patrolling. Spriggs can go to the funeral, but has to direct traffic after."

"You'll make a great dad one day," Nick said seriously.

"Shut up, Scratch." Nick laughed as he stood. "And remember, the Wardwell case is closed." Nick heard his superior's warning.

"It's closed," he agreed. "Like I said – in memoriam." He saw Ambrose's skeptical look, but ignored it. They left the station together.

"We meeting Sabrina there?" Ambrose asked.

"That's the plan," Nick confirmed. "Hell of a way to spend her birthday."

"I suppose she had a good morning." Nick grinned a bit bashfully. He had shown up at the mortuary with the sun, flowers and donuts in hand. "'It's too early for a coffee and donut milkshake, but how about coffee and donuts for breakfast on your birthday?' Was that how it was?"

"It made her happy," Nick reminded Ambrose. "She's had a rough few days."

"Happy is an understatement," Ambrose said. "She absolutely lit up."

Nick pictured Sabrina, a little bit sleepy when she opened the door for him, still in her pajamas, her robe wrapped around her. She had beamed when she saw him, and as Ambrose put it, lit up when he presented his donuts. Her happiness over the small gesture had radiated around the whole breakfast table, filling all the Spellmans, including Cee and Prudence, with a good note to start their day. For him, it had been worth the half hour of sleep he had sacrificed after another late night to make it happen.

They found her waiting with Prudence outside the church, the two playing civil with one another.

"Hi," she greeted Nick as he approached. The smile she gave him stand a little straighter, walk a little prouder.

"Hi, beautiful." He gave her a quick kiss. "I'm sorry you have to spend your birthday like this."

"My day started out okay enough." He laced his fingers through hers and gave her a bashful half smirk. "And I've got my party tonight. This will certainly be the low point of the day, but it helps know I got to start my birthday with the people I care about most, and end it with them, too."

He could only kiss her again in response. He kept her hand in his as they filed inside. They settled on a pew near the back, Sabrina between Nick and Ambrose, Prudence on Ambrose's other side. She gave Nick a small smile when he produced a pack of tissues and pulled a few from the plastic for her.

"Thank you for coming." Father Blackwood's presence at the front of the church silenced those gathered. "We are gathered here today to remember Cassius Morgan, beloved town librarian, historian…"

Her tears came quick. Nick squeezed her hand as a sign of support. He was less emotional this time. He didn't know Cassius, didn't have years of stories to tell about the man like the rest of the town. It wasn't like with the girls, young lives snapped short. Cassius' life had been ended in an instant, too, but he had lived a long life, and as much as Nick hated to admit it, he was more inclined to label Cassius as another case. But he understood the man meant something to the town, to Sabrina. He wanted to pay his respects and more than that, support Sabrina.

His phone vibrated. He ignored it, but caught Ambrose reach to ignore his own phone's vibration. Moments later, it vibrated again. He frowned. Something was wrong. Anyone who would need to reach him was either at the funeral or knew he was at the funeral. He unclipped it from his belt as quietly as he could. Sabrina glanced his way, curious through her tears. His eyes grew big as he read his screen. He looked at Ambrose just as Ambrose turned to him. He gave a silent nod. Ambrose turned to Prudence.

"We have to go," Nick whispered in Sabrina's ear. "Ambrose and I. I'll call you when I can."

"What…?" she whispered back, reaching for her bag. He shook his head.

"You stay here." He kissed her cheek and squeezed her hand one last time. He and Ambrose exited as quietly as they could, but still drew curious eyes all around. They didn't speak until they were outside.

"What in the hell is going on this town?" Ambrose demanded as they rushed towards Nick's SUV, the closest of their vehicles. "The girls, the Wardwells, Cassius, now this?"

"We don't know anything yet," Nick reminded him.

"We know a woman is dead at the bell tower," Ambrose stated. "From an apparent suicide."

Nick flipped on the sirens and peeled out of his parking spot. They were at the bell tower near the edge of town within minutes. Harvey and Officer Craig were waiting, both looking grave, while paramedics hovered around a mound of clothing on the ground.

"What do we have?"

Nick was immediately in charge, the scene his. He was in his element, ready to find the pieces and put them together, find a solution, determine what happened and if needed, find who was responsible. As twisted as it was, this, the first few moments of walking into a crime scene, was one of his favorite parts of his job.

"I found her about a half hour ago while on patrol," Harvey answered. "I called the paramedics, but I knew she was dead – I checked for a pulse. Then I called dispatch. Appears to be suicide."

Nick had already walked past him. Craig trailed behind him.

"Did anyone move the body?" he asked.

"No, Detective," a paramedic answered. "She is as she was found."

"Can you step back?" he asked. "I need the scene secured." He was vaguely aware of Ambrose barking orders behind him. His eyes took in the woman's body, grossly disfigured. "Block the road, both ways, at least a quarter mile out," he said to whoever was listening. "No one needs to see this."

"Already in the works," Ambrose replied, coming to stand by them. Nick pursed his lips, thinking fast. "Should be shut down within minutes."

"Tell them to make absolutely sure Sabrina doesn't get past them. On my orders, if need be. No press gets past, but definitely not Sabrina."

"Already done that, too," Ambrose confirmed. He tried to hide the emotions playing through him as he took in the body. "What do you think, Scratch?"

Nick didn't reply right away. His eyes left the woman's body and traveled to the top of the bell tower.

"I don't think she jumped," he said just loud enough for Ambrose to hear. "Simple physics." He didn't explain further. "Craig?"

"Sir?" Craig was there, ready and eager for his assignment.

"Go up to the top, secure the area, make an initial assessment. I'll be up in a few minutes."

"On it." He turned on his heel and walked away with determination.

"How sure are you she didn't jump?" Ambrose asked.

"Damn near positive," Nick stated, hands on his hips, still not explaining his reasoning. "Has Hilda been called yet?"

"She has."

"I want to talk to her before she touches the body." He took a deep breath, steeling himself. Cassius' death may not have affected him, but this one was already taking root. "Where's Kinkle?"

Ambrose sighed out a breath of annoyance.

"Over by the wood line, getting sick."

"Useless," Nick muttered.

"We've seen more death in the last month then most of these cops have seen their entire careers," Ambrose reminded him. "He found the woman. Give him a few minutes to pull himself together."

Nick let it go with a shake of his head. As far as he was concerned, Officer Kinkle was good for not much more than the occasional traffic violation. He put on a pair of gloves and started the process of evidence collection.

"Detective Scratch?" came Officer Craig's voice over the two-way a few minutes later.

"What is it, Craig?" he replied through the speaker on the shoulder of the vest he had shrugged on as they exited the SUV, unsure of what they were walking into.

"You need to get up here."

"I'm coming with you," Ambrose said, hearing the urgency in the officer's voice. He gestured to Harvey as he approached, looking pale. "Kinkle, stay put. If Hilda gets here before we get back, ask her to wait before she inspects the body."

"Yes, sir," Harvey agreed.

"So many damned stairs," Ambrose grunted as they climbed the bell tower. Nick ignored him, driven by adrenaline. Craig met them at the top of the stairs.

"What is it?" Nick demanded.

"There's something you need to see." He gestured. "Over on the ledge." Nick went over the bell tower's ledge, careful not to touch anything. He found what Craig had called him for.

"Fuck," he muttered. "Fuck!"

"What is it?" Ambrose came to Nick's side. "What's going on?"

"See that?" Nick pointed at the ledge. Ambrose leaned forward to get a better look.

"A Scrabble piece?" he questioned.

"A Scrabble piece," Nick confirmed. "This definitely wasn't a suicide, Captain." He felt weary all of a sudden, worried. An image of Sabrina flashed to mind. "Greendale has a serial killer living amongst us."

* * *

"I want answers, Scratch."

Nick wasn't surprised to find Sabrina in his office when he arrived back at the station from the bell tower. He sighed heavily, bracing himself for a battle he had to win.

"Sabrina…"

"Oh no," she interrupted. "We're not – whatever we are – right now. You're a detective, and I'm a reporter, and I have questions."

"Sabrina…"

"What's going on, Scratch? A suicide at the bell tower? Who was it? What happened? You and freaking Ambrose had that place locked down tighter than Fort Knox…"

"On purpose," Nick interjected.

"And then Melvin – Melvin! – informs me that you have specifically requested that I be kept away from the scene! I'm a reporter, Detective Scratch, and we have freedom of the press in this country. I have an obligation to let the public know what's happening in their community…"

"Are you done?" Nick asked with more patience than he had.

"No! And you know why I'm not done? Because I have absolutely nothing to work with to write a story!"

She stood in the middle of his office, fuming with frustration after having every avenue she had tried shut down over the last three hours. She was determined to make him tell her what was going on.

"I thought I heard your dulcet tones, Cousin." Ambrose appeared in the doorway. "Do try to keep it down?"

"I'm heading your way next," she informed him. "I'm almost as annoyed with you as I am with him." She jerked her thumb at Nick whose head fell back in frustration. "Which of you two is going to tell me what happened?"

"We will have a press conference at nine o'clock tomorrow morning," Ambrose supplied. "You will hear what we decide to share with the public then."

"Tomorrow morning?" Sabrina repeated indignantly. "What am I supposed to do? Write an article that says 'Something happened at the bell tower today. The Greendale PD will tell us more tomorrow?'"

"More or less," Nick confirmed. Sabrina scoffed. "We're not telling you anything, Sabrina. You or anyone else asking. We can't."

"What happened at that bell tower?" she demanded.

"No comment," Nick replied. He would match her toe-to-toe on this.

"Who was the victim?"

"No comment."

"Was there, in fact, a death?"

"No comment."

"I know there was a death!" she shrieked. "Hilda was called!"

"Don't even think about going down to the morgue," Ambrose warned. "Hilda won't tell you anything either."

"You act like I'm going to go down there and pull a body out, Ambrose."

"I wouldn't put it past you," he fired back.

"If you would just tell me…"

"No comment," he said.

Sabrina threw her hands up in frustration.

"Ambrose, I'll talk to her," Nick said. They had already decided that while they didn't want to tell the press anything more than absolutely necessary until they had time to better prepare, they did need to tell Sabrina who the victim was. He was dreading delivering the news. "I'll come down to your office in a few minutes, map out a plan."

"Godspeed, Scratch," Ambrose said. Sabrina stared daggers at him. He saluted and closed Nick's office door, leaving them alone.

"Unless you're going to tell me what happened, Detective, I have nothing further to say to you right now." Sabrina hoisted her bag on her shoulder from where she'd left it in a chair and made to leave. Nick caught the bag and dropped it on his desk.

"Stop calling me Detective," he said. "You're being a brat."

Her jaw fell open.

"Nicholas Scratch! How dare you…"

"Sabrina, stop." His tone left no room for argument. "I need to talk to you. But you have got to calm down and stop stamping your foot like a toddler that didn't get its way."

She looked at him, prepared to tear into him for calling her a brat and a toddler. A storm of emotions was reflected in his eyes. The determined set of his jaw made her pause. He looked deadly serious, but also like he had no patience. She huffed out a sigh.

"Fine," she relented. "I'm calm."

Nick approached her. He put his hands on her arms, felt her tension. He hated this. He hated what he had to. He knew she was going to be devastated, all over again. She had to know, however, and if he didn't tell her, he was certain Harvey Kinkle would. If she were going to fall into anyone's arms, he was selfish enough to make sure they were his.

"I need to tell you something," he started. "But I need to tell _you_, Sabrina, not Sabrina Spellman, reporter and associate editor of the _Greendale Gazette. _And then I need you to walk out of here and pretend like you still don't know anything more than anyone else. You can't talk to your friends, Zelda, not even the other officers about this."

Sabrina grew concerned, taking in how serious Nick was.

"What's going on?" she asked, but with trepidation this time.

"This has to be entirely off the record, Sabrina."

"It's off the record," she agreed with a nod.

"I'm being very serious right now. I trust you entirely, but I need you to promise me that anything I tell you doesn't go out of this office."

"I promise," she said. "Whatever is going on, it's entirely off the record. Just tell me, already. You're scaring me."

Nick nodded and rubbed his hands up and down her arms. He pulled on his own reserves to deliver the next bit of news.

"Officer Kinkle came across a body at the base of the bell tower while patrolling during the funeral," he started. "He called EMS, then dispatch. They knew Ambrose and I were at the funeral, so they messaged us. That's why we left the funeral." She nodded, listening intently. "Sabrina, Angela Fields is dead."

All color drained from her face.

"What?"

"I'm sorry, Sabrina."

"She jumped?" Sabrina asked with a shaky voice, trying to understand.

"She fell," Nick said, choosing his words carefully. He and Ambrose had also agreed that she didn't need to know there was a serial murderer yet. "She's gone, Sabrina. I'm so sorry. I know you've been spending time with her since – Lydia and the rest of the girls."

Her eyes filled with tears.

"I was going to meet her for coffee tomorrow," she revealed. "It was becoming a sort of weekly thing. She was lonely and really struggling without Lydia. I thought I could help her… She's divorced, her family isn't here…" She shook her head. "What's happening in this town, Nick? Why are so many people dying?"

"I don't know, beautiful." He slid his hands down her arms to take her hands. "I wish I had better answers for you." Even the answers he did have were partial, at best. He drew her to him. "I'm sorry, Sabrina." He kissed her hair. "I'm so sorry."

He held her for several minutes, letting her cry in his arms. He felt helpless, wished he could do something to make things better for her. She had spent so much time crying in the short time he had known her. The only thing he could think of was to catch whoever was behind the murders.

"I'm sorry," she said when she pulled away several minutes later, wiping at her eyes. "I feel like all I do is cry. And now your shirt is all wet." Fresh tears brimmed at her eyes. Nick reached for a box of tissues on his desk.

"Guess it's a good thing I have a supply of these now." She smiled ever so slightly in spite of their current circumstances, remembering how he had apologized for not having tissues the night the girls died, and realizing now that he had offered her tissues at every funeral they had attended since. "My shirt is the least of my worries." He cupped her cheek and brushed his thumb along her cheek. "You're my priority."

"It's just so… sad." She shivered a bit as she thought through it all. "She was grieving her daughter. All the parents are, but Lydia was all Angela had and now…"

"Angela had a horrible last few weeks," Nick agreed. He tried not to picture her body, broken and distorted, not unlike her daughter's had been. "I guess, collectively speaking, we all have, in our own ways."

"You've been a highlight of my last few weeks," Sabrina chanced, because she was vulnerable and she felt things for Nick that she knew went beyond friendship.

"You are the highlight of mine," he replied, pulling her back to him. "Even when you're standing in my office, calling me Detective Scratch and demanding answers."

"I'm sorry about that," she sighed. "Sometimes, when I get something in my head or I'm not getting my questions answered, I get worked up and passionate…"

"Don't apologize for being passionate, Sabrina. I love that about you." She closed her eyes and burrowed into his chest, needing the feeling of safety he gave her. "I'm sorry I called you a brat. I had to get your attention somehow."

"You weren't entirely wrong," Sabrina amended. "I was being difficult."

"Still, I could have chosen my words a little better." He hugged her to him. "We couldn't let anyone see her body. The bell tower is on the edge of town, but with so many people out for the funeral, there was a lot of traffic in the area. But I especially couldn't let you see her, not after you just found Cassius and you considered her a friend."

"You're always trying to protect me," Sabrina said with a hint of wonder.

"I'd do anything for you." He kissed her then, long and slow and innocent. He hoped it told her enough.

"What happens now?" she asked once they broke apart and caught their breath. "I know I have to pretend I know nothing, but what's the plan?"

"Ambrose and I are working that out. That's what we're going to talk about in a few minutes. We'll hold a press conference tomorrow and update the town on what we can tell them, but I'm afraid you really won't have much to go on for your article."

"People will know she died…"

"I'll confirm with Ambrose, but I think we can release her name tonight." There was no way the news wouldn't somehow spread through Greendale that Angela Fields was dead. "Just no other details."

Sabrina considered him.

"I feel like you're leaving out a lot of the story."

"I've told you everything I can tell you," Nick told her. "That's the best I can do for now." He took her hand. "I can't leave, but I can have someone take you home."

"No, I can get myself home okay," she assured him, thinking the fresh air would help clear her head. "Aunt Zelda still plans to have town trick-or-treating and it shouldn't surprise you that our house is rather popular on Halloween."

"That doesn't surprise me at all," Nick said, thinking of how thinly spread the police department would be that night, between patrolling the town full of trick-or-treaters and now, working two murder cases. "Plus, it's still your birthday."

"I don't feel much like celebrating anymore," Sabrina confessed. "But Zelda and Hilda have already bought a ton of food, decorated the house… I guess I'll have to fake my way through it."

"I'm going to be late, but I'll be there," he promised.

"It's okay, Nick. You've been working long hours, and I'm sure you've got your hands full with what's happened today. You don't have to come out to the mortuary for a grilled hot dog and some birthday cake."

"Yes, I do."

He left it at that.

"I guess we should both face the real world, huh?" she said after a moment.

"You up for it?" Nick asked. "My offer to have someone take you home still stands."

"I'll be okay," she said. "I'll text you when I get home?"

"Please," he agreed. "I'll see you later tonight."

They shared one more kiss. He waited for Sabrina to check her reflection in a hand mirror and wipe away the eye makeup that had run. When she indicated she was ready, her bag back on her shoulder, he opened the door.

In the hallway, he squeezed her hand. He went left to Ambrose's office. She went right, towards home, her shoulders square, her heart heavy.

* * *

**Well now. We do have a situation in Greendale.**

**Part 2 of this update tomorrow! **


	11. Chapter 11

**And here it is - part two to yesterday's update! This one is less crime - more cute! :)**

* * *

_Happy Birthday, Brina. _

She stared at the text, debating on whether she should respond. She hadn't spoken to Rosalind Walker since the day she confronted her about sleeping with Harvey. Seeing Roz's name on her screen with the simple birthday wish made her heart hurt just a little more. She missed her best friend.

"I know you said this was going to be a lot more low key than previous years, but if this is low key…" Theo dropped onto the step beside her. Below them, the Spellman yard was full of people in Halloween costumes, laughing, eating, and drinking. The house had been transformed into a Halloween wonderland, and while the flow of trick-or-treaters had finally stopped for the night, the party kept going.

"You know Aunt Zelda," Sabrina said. "She never misses a chance to remind the townspeople she's the mayor."

Zelda, for all of her complaints about Sabrina's tendency to go overboard with her birthday plans, had hijacked her party, taking it from the simple gathering Sabrina wanted to the blowout it was. She supposed, in another setting, one where Angela Fields, Cassius, the Wardwells, and maybe even the girls were present, she would have loved it.

"Checking to see if Nick has texted?" Theo asked.

"Something like that," Sabrina admitted. "I know he's working late and I told him he didn't have to come, but it's been a long day, and I'm selfishly hoping he does show up."

"You really like him, don't you?" Theo asked.

"I do," she admitted. "I really do. He's – different. He's not safe, like Harvey was yet I feel safe with him. Does that make sense?"

"Harvey was a safe choice," Theo nodded. "You knew what to expect with him. I guess, right up until…"

"He slept with my best friend," Sabrina finished. "I recognize the irony."

"With Nick, you just seem so much more – you. From where I sit on the sidelines, I see Nick as a guy who is really confident in who he is, what he does. You have always been like that – you have have always known who you are. Nick lets you shine. Harvey, for all his good points, held you back." Theo smiled. "I'm really happy for you, Sabrina. And it's really good to see you happy again, too."

Sabrina smiled ruefully. It was an odd place to be , happy with Nick, devastated over everything happening around her.

"We haven't had 'the talk' yet," she confided in Theo. "I'm not seeing anyone else, and I don't think he is either – I don't think he would have time to at the moment – but we haven't put any sort of official label on what we are."

"He's your future husband," Theo determined. "I don't need Roz's weird way of knowing stuff to know that. You can write down that I said that on your 29th birthday so I can say 'told you so' at your wedding."

"Let's not get too far ahead of ourselves," Sabrina shook her head with a smile. "I think I can see myself with Nick for a long time, though. If he'll have me."

"Has he?"

"Has he what?" Sabrina repeated. Theo raised his eyebrows.

"Had you?"

"Theo!"

Sabrina brushed profusely. She loved Theo's bluntness, the way he just asked what he wanted to ask, said what he wanted to say. He was, by all accounts, the bravest person she knew, living his life as a man when his physical body told the worth otherwise. But sometimes, he still caught her by surprise.

"He's hot," Theo shrugged. "No one would fault you. I'd even celebrate you."

"We haven't," Sabrina answered. "He slept over the night Cassius was murdered, but he was exhausted." She left out both Nick's nightmare and how they had made out in the morning, his hand sliding under her shirt, him leaving no doubt as to his desires. Had Prudence and Ambrose not stumbled past, laughing and discussing breakfast, she wasn't sure they would have stopped. "But that's it. It's only been a few weeks since our first date, and he says he's trying to be a gentleman. It's sweet."

"Be honest, you don't want him to keep being a gentleman."

"I really don't," Sabrina admitted, making Theo howl laughing. She waited until he settled down to change the subject. "Roz texted me. She wished me a happy birthday. It's the first time I've heard from her in four months."

"You told her not to talk to you," Theo reminded her. "She's had a hard time with that, but she's abided by your wishes."

"She has," Sabrina agreed. "Harvey texted too. He obviously continues to try to get back into my good graces." She played with the lace of the elaborate dress she wore. "They seem happy together."

"They are," Theo confirmed gently. "They just – make sense. Harvey has started going to church with Roz and her family, Roz is more confident in who she is. I know they broke your heart, but you have Nick now, so I feel like I can say this. They fit together in a way you two never did."

Sabrina couldn't argue that point.

"I miss Roz," she confessed. "Now that I've had some time, some space… And with Nick, too… I think, maybe, I could forgive her someday soon. Harvey, I'm not so sure about, but I think I would like to have Roz back in my life.

"She would love that," Theo said. "So would I, if I'm being honest." They traded smiles that spoke to years of memories and friendship. Theo saw the car turning into the driveway first. "I think you got your birthday wish."

"What?" Sabrina followed Theo's gaze. She broke into a genuine smile. "Nick." She looked back at Theo. "Do you mind if I…?"

"Ditch me for the hot detective?" He asked. "Nah. I'm going to go find some matches and light the fire pit. We need s'mores."

They stood and descended the stairs together, but Sabrina only had eyes for Nick. And Nick, Theo observed, certainly wasn't looking anywhere else. He couldn't blame him. Sabrina was a vision in her costume.

"You look… Incredible…" Nick stammered.

"I didn't have a costume," Sabrina shrugged. "With everything going on, I never got around to putting together my usual over the top number. This was my mom's wedding dress."

"You look perfect." He met her at the bottom of the stairs. She looped her arms around his neck as he pulled her into him. "I'm sorry I'm so late."

"You're here," Sabrina said with a shake of her head. "That's enough."

"Even if I came dressed as an exhausted detective? A look that happens to be my day-to-day norm right now?"

"Even if," Sabrina confirmed. She hugged him tight. "I would have been okay if you hadn't made it, but I'm so glad you did."

"It's your birthday," he reminded her. "And I meant what I said earlier. You're my priority." Something told her that there was more behind Nick calling her his priority than simple words. He meant it, for one, but it was as though he needed to remind himself. She remained sure there was something in Nick's past he was trying to put behind him. Now wasn't the time to push for more, however. "Happy birthday, beautiful."

"You've said that a time or two today," she teased.

"And I've meant it every time."

They shared a kiss, right in the front yard for all to see.

"Are you hungry?" she asked when they parted. "I'm willing to bet you haven't eaten a proper meal today."

"I'm starving and I haven't," he admitted. "Donuts with you this morning, a bag of chips right before the funeral, and some M&Ms out of the vending machine a few hours ago." Sabrina shook her head.

"Come on, Scratch. Let's get you some food."

An hour later, his stomach full, Nick was trying to extricate himself from the grips of two women he thought were called Agatha and Dorcas. They had cornered him when he went to refill his drink, and now he couldn't seem to shake them.

"What's the most gruesome murder you've come across?" the one named Dorcas asked. "Tell us all about it – we love true crime!"

"We do," Agatha confirmed. "But Dorcas more than me. She listens to podcasts all the time…"

"You two do know he's with Sabrina, right?" Ambrose appeared, wearing part of a pirate's costume over his Greendale PD uniform.

"Of course," Dorcas replied too quickly. "We were just talking…"

"Yeah, Captain, we were just welcoming our newest resident to Greendale."

"Well, I'm afraid this conversation has to come to an end," he said. "I need Scratch to help me break down one of the Halloween displays for my aunties."

"Happy to help," Nick said, seeing right through the lie. "Lead the way." Ambrose jerked his head for Nick to follow. "You're my hero," he said when they were out of earshot of Dorcas and Agatha. "I've been trying to get away from them for ten minutes."

"They're Prudence's friends, but I don't like them all that much," Ambrose confessed. "Agatha isn't entirely awful. She's newly engaged and relatively stable in her day-to-day life. Dorcas though – she's jealous of Prudence and Agatha and entirely desperate. I like you enough to not subject you to any more conversation with those two than is strictly necessary."

"You're a good man, Ambrose," Nick said in appreciation. His eyes searched the crowd for Sabrina. He found her easily, sitting on a bench near the fire, talking to Theo and someone he thought was named Billy. Again, he was struck by how beautiful she was.

"I was starting to think you weren't going to make it," Ambrose commented. "In spite of me telling you to leave the office by eight when I left at seven."

"I could have stayed and worked well into the night," Nick condessed. "Maybe even should have, given what we know. But," he hesitated for a moment before deciding to be honest, "I haven't always been the best at prioritizing my personal life. I'm trying to be better this time, do things differently. It's Sabrina's birthday. This party is important to her, no matter how she tried to downplay it, and she's important to me."

Ambrose clapped his shoulder.

"I like you, Scratch," he declared. "I'm glad she's got you."

He left Ambrose to go to Sabrina. He joined her on the bench, his arm around her as they talked with her friends. He made it a point to try to get to know them bettr, for her, but also for himself – if he was going to live in a small town, he needed to be better about making connections with his neighbors. It wasn't like New York, where he could be just another face.

Around them, the party goers started to trickle away. When Theo and Billy left and it was just them for the first time since he arrived, Nick seized his opportunity.

"I have something for you." He reached into his jacket and produced a thin square box. "I've been waiting for a chance to give this to you all day." He blushed a bit. "Sorry its not wrapped. That's not exactly in my wheelhouse."

"You're sweet." Sabrina leaned over and brushed her lips along his cheek before she opened the box. She let out a soft gasp. An elegant gold bangle with detailed etchings lay inside. "This is absolutely beautiful, Nick." She went to clasp it around her wrist. He stopped her.

"I had it engraved," he said nervously. He turned her hand so she could see the inside of the bangle.

"_Bellissimo," _she read.

"Beautiful in Italian," Nick translated. "Which is what you are – beautiful, inside and out. I thought the Italian would be a nice touch, a reminder of our first date." Her eyes filled with tears. "Hey, don't do that," he hushed, wiping them away. "It's your birthday, and you've cried enough today."

"These are happy tears," she promised him. "This is perfect, Nick. Thank you." She kissed him soundly. There was no more falling for Nicholas Scratch. She was full in full on free fall with no hope of being caught. She didn't want to be – unless it was Nick doing the catching.

"I'm glad you like it." He had agonized over the perfect gift, wanting something meaningful but not too over the top. The bangle had felt right, and he was glad he went with his instincts. He kissed her again. "Happy birthday, Sabrina."

He stayed by her side for the next half hour, making small talk with the few remaining party guests or else pitching in to help clean up. Conscious of the fact that it was getting late as he put down the platters he had carried inside for Hilda, he took Sabrina by the hand and turned her to face them.

"I should get going. I've got to be in the office early tomorrow morning."

"Stay here," she proposed. "I liked having you here the other night. And besides, its my birthday."

"You really do go for the jugular, don't you, Spellman?" he asked, finding it hard to resist.

"Like I said, a girl has to ask for what she wants." Her hand trailed down his chest. She wasn't conscious of what she was doing, but he certainly was. He caught her hand in his before her aunts or Ambrose walked in.

"As much as I want to stay, I've got to go home to let Dublin out. I ran home late afternoon and took her for a walk, but she's probably getting pretty annoyed with me by now." Sabrina tried to hide her disappointment. "But if I may make another suggestion…" She raised an eyebrow to show she was listening. He took his chance. "You could come home with me, stay with me tonight."

"Oh yeah?" she asked.

"Yeah," he agreed, pulling her closer. "I liked sleeping next to you, too." He kissed her. "Besides, Dublin would love to see you."

"Is that so?"

"It's a fact. She told me so on our walk today."

"Wait for me to go upstairs and change out of this?" she proposed. q

"I'll be here. Put on something comfortable." She kissed him again and hurried out of the room, her dress flying behind her as she rounded the corner from the kitchen.

He exhaled, trying not to think too much about how she looked in her mother's wedding dress, or the thoughts that had run through his mind when he saw her walking down the stairs towards him.

"You crashing here tonight?" Ambrose asked, walking into the kitchen with Prudence. "How do you feel about banana pancakes for breakfast? I'm trying convince Hilda to make them and if I've got your vote…"

"Sorry, Captain," Nick shook his head. "I'm heading home in a few minutes."

"Where's Sabrina?" Prudence asked. He could tell by the smirk on her face she already knew the answer.

"She's upstairs, changing. She's going to… stay at my place… tonight."

"I guess that's good," Ambrose reasoned after a moment. "She hates banana pancakes and would be a vocal opponent to my campaign."

Nick chuckled in relief. No matter how many times Ambrose gave him his approval, he still felt the need to toe the line when it came to his relationship with his superior's cousin.

"Okay," Sabrina said, returning to the kitchen with a small bag over her shoulder, her clothes replaced by leggings and an oversized sweater that draped off her shoulder. She was still wearing the bangle, Nick noted. "I'm ready."

"I'll see you at the station," Nick told Ambrose with a nod. "Goodnight, Prudence."

"You two really are cute together," she smirked as she watched Nick take first Sabrina's bag and then her hand. "I suppose I'll see you both soon enough. Sleep well. Or not at all, as it may be."

"Tell the aunties where I am?" Sabrina requested, ignoring Prudence's suggestion.

"I'll do your dirty work," Ambrose confirmed. "Keep my cousin out of trouble, Scratch."

"I'll try," he promised.

If nothing else, he reasoned as they left the house, she would be with him.

And if she was with him, then she was safe from whoever was wandering around Greendale, taking lives seemingly without reason.

He would make sure of it.

* * *

Sabrina curled her legs under her on Nick's couch. She liked his couch, she decided. It was older, nondescript, but it wrapped around her like a hug when she sunk into the cushions. Dublin trotted into the room and didn't hesitate to leap onto the couch. She laid down, her head in Sabrina's lap.

"So it's just the bed you need an invitation for, huh?" she asked as she smoothed the dog's fur. Dublin sighed contently. She had accompanied Nick while he walked Dublin around the cul-de-sac, their hands intertwined. Now, she was growing ever more comfortable as she waited for him to shower.

"I'm going to make some coffee." Sabrina had to remind herself to breathe. He stood in the living room, hair damp from a quick shower, shirtless, a pair of grey sweatpants hung low on his hips. He had slept in an undershirt and boxers when he stayed at her house. Seeing him so comfortable made something in her hum. "Do you want a cup of tea?"

"I thought you weren't a tea drinker?" she asked.

"Maybe I was presumptuous, but I figured if you were going to be here, I should have some tea." Her smile was all he needed to know he had made the right call. "It's a variety pack, so you have options. I had no idea what I was looking for."

"I'd love some tea," she told him. She made to stand.

"Stay right there," he instructed. "It's still your birthday. I'll bring it to you." He left the room, but returned almost right away. "I've got chamomile, peppermint, blackberry, lemon and ginger, earl grey, and pomegranate."

"Blackberry, please," she fought back her smile at the effort he was going to.

"And I literally just – boil water, right?"

"Then pour it over the tea bag." Sabrina had to work hard to keep her amusement from showing. "But – leave the tea bag."

"Easy enough," he decided. "Be right back."

"He's a good one, Dublin," she told the dog. She stretched in response. Nick returned a few minutes later, a steaming mug in either hand. "I'm not sure where you're going to sit, Scratch," she said. Dublin had spread the length of the couch and looked to be intent on staying there.

"On my couch," Nick stated. "Dublin, platz!" The dog let out a loud puff of annoyance, but obediently jumped off the couch. She settled on an armchair while Nick took her spot. "I'm starting to think she likes you more than she likes me."

"Well, I am prettier than you," Serena said seriously.

"You're not wrong." He passed her a mug, then pulled her legs around so they draped across his lap. "I'm glad you came home with me, Spellman."

"I'm glad I did, too." She smiled at him. "It's been a rough day – after several rough days. But you, Nicholas Scratch, managed to make today special, with the donuts this morning and then being there tonight, my bracelet…" She held up her tea. "This."

"Minus that whole part where you yelled at me and I called you a brat?"

"That wasn't my finest hour," Sabrina admitted.

"You were pretty cute, all worked up like that." His free hand rested on her knee. "You don't hear the word 'no' a lot, do you?"

"I hear it. I just don't accept it."

"That's my girl." He squeezed her knee. This was as good of a time as any to come clean about his true intentions. "You said something in my office that's been on my mind ever since."

"I did?"

"You said 'we're not – whatever we are – right now' while you were reaming me out about the barricades. I know what you meant – that in that moment, I was the detective, you were the reporter, and things were meant to be professional. But I want to…" His words suddenly failed.

"You want to what, Nick?" She thought she knew where he was going.

"I want to – clarify – what we are." He looked at her, a nervous glint in his eyes. "I know what you are to me. I hope I'm – something similar – to you."

"What am I to you?" She needed him to say it first. She was still a little skittish from Harvey. She needed him to put the label down first.

"My girlfriend." He said it easily, as though he were reporting on the weather. His fingers danced along her knee in his nervous way. "I don't know where I stand with you though."

"Nick, how could you not know where you stand with me?" she asked. "Despite my being a little raw from Harvey, you came in and swept me off my feet. You're my boyfriend." She shifted her eyes from him to her tea and back again, nervous now. "As long as you want to be."

"Any man would be a fool not to want to be your boyfriend." He took her free hand in his. "I can't say Officer Kinkle is my favorite person, and I hate that he hurt you, but selfishly? I'm damn glad he did." He lifted her hand to his lips. "It means I get a chance with you and I don't plan on blowing it."

"You're quite the smooth talker, Scratch." She laced her fingers with his.

"It's working out for me," he reasoned. "I've got a girlfriend now." They kissed again, both feeling the shift towards level ground in their relationship. "I do have to worry about you stealing my dog, though."

Sabrina laughed.

"Dublin is still yours, no matter how much she likes me." She curled into Nick's side, content to sip her tea while Nick did the same with his coffee. His comment about Harvey had brought a question she'd kept in the back of her mind over the last couple of weeks to the forefront. "Nick?"

"Spellman?"

"You know all about my last boyfriend. Tell me about your last girlfriend?"

There was a period of silence. Sabrina felt the growing tension coming off of Nick while he thought over her question. She was plotting what she could say to reverse course and let him have an out when he sighed heavily, almost as though he were deflating a balloon, his mind made up.

"Her name was Amalia," he shared. "I met her in a bar, as one tends to do in New York. She was a bartender, I needed a stiff drink after a rough day at work. I was investigating an especially grizzly murder of a four-year-old and it was just a little more than I could take." Sabrina unconsciously shifted closer to him in an effort to comfort him. "I dated her for a year and a half. If I'm being entirely honest, it was a year too long. I put my job first, led her on." He pursed his lips for a moment, his nervous tick.

"I feel guilty about it all now, but I also learned a lot about myself, relationships." He looked at her. "My mistakes with her showed me where I needed to be a better man. The guy I was even a few months ago wouldn't have left the office to go to his girlfriend's birthday party with a fresh case on his desk." He still had her hand and squeezed it. "I would have picked up the first piece of jewelry I saw at the first store I passed en route to your door a day or two too late, maybe bought some flowers from a bodega, and said some pretty words to get you to forgive me. I wouldn't have spent a week trying to find the perfect gift." He clicked his mug with hers. "I certainly wouldn't have had Amazon send me a selection of tea I'll never drink because I know my girlfriend likes it before bed."

"Never say never," she said softly. She offered him her tea. He smiled a little and took a sip. He made a face as the liquid hit his tongue.

"That's awful," he declared, making her laugh. "You've got a lot of tea to drink, Spellman."

"I'll see what I can do," she promised. She put her nearly empty mug on the coffee table, then took Nick's half-full mug. He didn't protest as it joined hers. "Thank you, for telling me about Amalia." He only nodded. She was sure there was more to the story, but she was also sure she wouldn't get more tonight. That's how it was with Nick. He would open up, but only in increments, and only on his timetable. She was okay with that, so long as he continued to let her in. "Thank you for making my birthday special."

She kissed him, leaving no room for doubt as to what she wanted. He slid an arm around her waist and brought her close. His gentlemanly act, another holdover from his days with Amalia, was quickly coming to an end, and he hoped, maybe soon, the cold showers would, too. He had taken far too many in the last few weeks.

His lips left hers and trailed down her neck. She gasped softly when he closed his lips around the place he had discovered she liked. Her hand curled into his hair as she tilted her head to give him more access. He obliged, kissing down her neck and along the collarbone exposed by the way her sweater fell off one shoulder. Her other hand glided down his back, his muscles flexing under her touch.

He lowered her to the couch with the intention of taking her to the bedroom soon, but not before he had an appetizer. He paused to check in as he settled over her. She responded by bringing his mouth back to hers.

Hands began to roam. He was aware of her every reaction as he slipped a hand under her sweater. Her skin was soft, smooth. He pressed his hips into hers, let her know his intentions. She kissed him harder.

"Nick," she sighed between kiss. "Bedroom."

"We're going," he promised. "But first…" He sat back and pushed her sweater upward. She raised her arms and allowed him to lift it off of her, revealing a lacy black bra. "God, you're beautiful."

The next kiss was searing, full of promises. Sabrina wanted to hurry him up, have what she was growing ever more impatient for. She also wanted this moment, this feeling of lust and desire, to last for as long as possible.

Again, his mouth trailed away from hers. This time, he followed a path down her throat. He dipped his tongue in the hollow of her neck and smirked at the way it made her shutter. He knew he was good in bed, and he had a feeling Sabrina had an inner vixen that hadn't had the chance to shine. He would bring it out. He moved his lips down her chest, let a hand slide up to cup her breast. He pulled down her bra cup.

A sudden shrieking sound filled the air.

"What the hell?" he exclaimed, sitting up fast.

"What is that?" Sabrina asked at the same time, grabbing for her sweater. Dublin was up in her chair, sitting on her haunches, ears pointed, every point of her body on high alert. "It sounds like a car alarm."

"Stay here," Nick directed, pushing himself off of her, every scenario possible, from the innocent to the sinister playing through his mind. "Dublin." The dog looked to him for direction. He pointed at Sabrina. "Pass auf!" Dublin dutifully left the chair and joined Sabrina on the couch.

"Nick, what are you doing?" The shrieking continued. "I'm sure it's just a car alarm…"

"Stay here," he repeated. "I'll be right back."

Sabrina was sure she could feel her heart in her throat. She listened as Nick made his way through the house, first to his bedroom, then back towards the front door. She heard the sound of a gun magazine click into place. The door opened. She made to get up. Dublin blocked her progress.

"Seriously?" Sabrina asked. Dublin only looked at her. "Sitz!" Dublin sat. "Blieb!" She made to stand. Again, Dublin blocked her. "Freaking Nick," she muttered.

A minute or two passed.

The shrieking stopped.

Another couple of minutes passed. The front door opened. She heard a click, then a thunk. Nick appeared in the living room.

"Car alarm," he confirmed. "The car belonged to the guy two houses down, but he parked it across the street earlier when the trick-or-treaters were out and he couldn't get to his driveway. It took him a minute to realize it was his car." He ran a hand through his hair. "A Halloween prank, I guess, maybe a fluke thing. I didn't see anything out of the ordinary."

"Could you tell your dog to let me get off of this couch?" Sabrina replied.

"Dublin, fuss!" She jumped off the couch and trotted to Nick. "Good girl," he praised. "We'll get you a treat in a minute." She accepted his scratch behind her ear. "You okay?"

"What just happened?" Sabrina asked in respon. "It was a car alarm, Nick, not an invasion."

"I overreacted," he admitted, stepping further into the room. "With everything going on…" he trailed off, but she didn't need to hear any more. She could read between the lines, both now and hours earlier in his office.

"Angela Fields was murdered, wasn't she?" she asked.

He sighed.

"Sabrina…"

"Don't lie to me, Nick."

He locked eyes with her.

"Off the record?" he asked.

"Off the record," she agreed.

"She was murdered." He saw the horror in Sabrina's eyes. He reasoned she may as well know the rest of it. "Whoever killed her, also killed Cassius."

"There's a serial killer in Greendale." She looked shocked. "Nick…"

"It's too soon to jump to the serial killer explanation." He knew he was lying. He was sure whoever was behind the murders was a serial killer. They left Scrabble pieces as calling cards. He was also sure they planned to kill again unless he got to them first. "This has to stay off the record, Sabrina. Ambrose and I are going to address the town tomorrow, but we're not planning to admit that it was murder – we need more time to investigate, gather the facts. We've already increased patrol around town and we plan to emphasize ways the community can keep themselves safe. But this is serious, and I need you to keep it quiet."

"The community has a right to know…"

Nick came to sit beside her.

"The community only needs to know enough," he corrected. "We plan to tell them enough. If we let too much out there, we run the risk of showing too much of our hand and we firmly believe that this person is local. They're in the community. We probably saw them at some point today. Hell, they could have wrote 'Happy Birthday' on your Facebook wall, Sabrina."

"What do you know?" she questioned. "What evidence do you have? Is there a person of interest?"

"I've already told you too much."

"You've told me hardly nothing."

"What I have told you is off the record," he reminded her. "I shouldn't have even told you in the first place."

"I know," she sighed. She dropped her head to her hands. "God, Nick, there's someone in this community murdering people."

"I know." He rubbed small, comforting circles on her back. "This is my investigation. I'm using every avenue I know of to find this guy. If I need to call in the FBI, I will. I'll find him. I almost always do."

"You think it's a him?" she asked.

"The crimes have the M.O. of a male suspect, but I can't be sure. Not yet. It's highly unlikely that it's a woman."

"Almost always?" she continued.

"I've solved a hell of a lot more cases than I've left unsolved," he said with confidence. "This one will be solved, too." He put an arm around her and kissed her temple. "I'm going to keep you safe."

"Don't worry about me…"

"I'm going to worry about you," he informed her. "Generally speaking, but especially right now. That's what boyfriends do. Good ones, at least."

Sabrina was reminded that she was sure there was something more to his relationship than Amalia, but it was the least of her concerns at the moment.

"You'll be safe?" she asked.

"As safe as I can be." He kissed her temple again. He was intentional in not promising her. His job was dangerous, and that danger was heightened at the moment. "You ready for bed?"

"I am," she confirmed. Her heart was heavy, but she accepted there was nothing she could do, at least at the moment. The mood from earlier was wrecked, but she could at least sleep in his arms. He caught her hand and pulled her to her feet. "What did you tell Dublin when you left?"

"To guard you," he confessed. "If there had been danger, she would have done whatever she could to protect you."

"She did her job. She wouldn't let me get off the couch."

"She's a good dog." He stopped in the kitchen and gave Dublin her promised treat. In the hallway, he double checked the locked front door, then picked up his gun from where he left it when he came inside. With sure hands, he removed the magazine. He caught Sabrina watching him. "Does the gun make you nervous?"

"No," she shook her head. "Ambrose has guns."

"I keep it unloaded at home," he assured her. "And always on safety. Just so you know, I carry it with me at all times, even when I'm off duty." Sabrina nodded. Ambrose did the same thing. It was part of being a cop. "You sure you're okay with it?"

"I'm sure," she confirmed. "You're a detective. It's part of the package."

The gun itself didn't bother her. It both made her nervous and excited her to see Nick handling it like it was an extension of his own body. He was comfortable with it, sure of himself with it in his hands. It was what the gun symbolized however – the danger he, and Ambrose, put themselves in every day, the very real fact that there was someone out there that had killed two members of the Greendale community, that put her a little on edge.

She followed him to his bedroom. Like the rest of the house, it was simple, straightforward, neat enough. There was a stack of clean clothes in an armchair, his duty belt and tactical vest stacked on the dresser. There was a dog bed in a corner that looked like it had been rarely slept in. Dublin went to it.

"Do you have a preferred side of the bed?" Sabrina asked. Harvey had been steadfast in his belief that he needed to sleep on the left side, no matter what. For her own sanity, she hoped Nick preferred the right.

"Well," he stepped out of his sweatpants, getting down to just his boxers, "I tend to sleep in the middle." He tilted his head, taking in her leggings and oversized sweater. "You sleeping in that, Spellman?"

"I brought pajamas." She picked up the bag Nick had put in his room when they first got there. "I'll be right back." She made quick work of changing her clothes, brushing her teeth, and washing her face. When she came back, Nick was in bed, squarely in the middle of it. "You weren't kidding."

"Pick a side, Spellman."

She went to his left, the side she never got to sleep on. He held the covers open for her and she slid close. She settled with her head on his chest, a position that was quickly becoming her favorite.

"Is Dublin joining us?"

"Only if I invite her. She's a big dog. She takes up a lot of space. I think she can sleep in her own bed tonight." He brought her close. "I'm glad you here," he told her again. "I'll sleep better with you next to me."

He found comfort in having her in his arms. She soothed the anxious parts of him, just by being there, but she was also safe with him.

"I think I'll sleep pretty well myself," she agreed. "Although I'm sorry that car alarm was effectively a bucket of cold water." Nick chuckled and reached to turn out the bedside lamp.

"What's that saying? Good things come to those who wait?"

"I suppose." Nick chuckled again and ran a hand up her back. He was aching to have her, but he wanted it to be right, not on the fringes of telling her there was a murderer living among them. "Goodnight, Nick."

"Goodnight, beautiful."

He kissed her forehead. She sighed contently and settled into his embrace.

In the dark, his mind raced as it usually did when he had a quiet moment and a big case on his desk. He ran through the evidence he knew of, trying to find the common thread, the thing that would lead him to his suspect. He came up empty, yet again. He needed more – more evidence, more clues, more than an empty list of suspects. His thoughts of an unknown murderer led him to consider the woman in his arms.

"Sabrina?"

"Hmmm?"

"How did you get home today, when you left the station?"

"I walked," she answered sleepily. "I drove home when your stupid barricades kept me away from the bell tower, but I got more and more annoyed waiting around, so I walked to the station to demand answers. Believe it or not, my temper had cooled off a bit before I got there."

"Can you do something for me?" His hand trailed over her shoulder as she nodded. "Don't walk home alone, especially through the woods, until we've got this person behind bars."

"Do you really think its that dangerous out there?" she asked through the darkness.

"I know there have been two murders in the last few days. It's time to be smart, Sabrina. I'd feel better knowing you were at least not trekking through the woods."

"Will you promise me to be careful?" she countered. "Wear your vest, don't do anything stupid, stuff like that?"

"I'll do everything I can to come home to you." He kissed her hair, but again didn't make her a promise he wasn't sure he could keep. "Promise me you'll stay out of the woods?"

"Promise," she echoed. She snuggled closer to Nick. "Find whoever is doing this, Nick. And make sure he never sees the light of day again."

He could only hug her tighter in response.

* * *

**What a sleepover. **

**Let me know what you thought! **


	12. Chapter 12

**It's a short but sweet (?) update. Enjoy!**

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Cassius Jones. 68. Librarian. De facto town historian. No known enemies. No debts. Not even a parking ticket. The model citizen by every account. No close family. More friends than could be counted. Owned his home. No items appeared to be missing. He even had his wallet on him when he died, credit cards and cash accounted for. He had planned to read a story to the elementary school students during lunch the day his body was discovered.

Angela Fields. 43. Single mom. Divorced four years ago. Ex-husband moved to Pennsylvania, re-married last year, and was confirmed to be at work at the time of her murder. So was his wife. One daughter, Lydia Fields, deceased. One month behind on rent, sent text to landlord the day before her death that she would be able to pay on Friday, once her check was deposited. Depressed. Struggled to put one foot in front of the other most days.

No DNA.

No fibers.

No fingerprints.

Ballistics from Cassius revealed the murder weapon to be a 9mm handgun. He had been shot exactly once, from three feet or less. He had the bullet as evidence but no gun.

Angela died by blunt force trauma, caused by fall. There were signs of a struggle, but not even a trace of DNA under her fingernails. She didn't jump. She was likely pushed, or else fell accidentally while trying to escape.

There was a Scrabble piece left at both scenes. A 'W' in Cassius' office. A 'D' at the bell tower. Two inconspicuous letters. Both without a trace of DNA on them.

That was the only commonality between the two murders.

A damned Scrabble piece.

They hadn't even came from the same set.

"Refill?"

Nick startled.

"What?" he asked.

"Refill?" Cee prompted, holding up a pot of coffee. "You look like you could use another cup." Nick held out his mug. Cee poured coffee. "You were in another place for a while there, Detective Scratch."

"Just thinking." He rubbed a hand over his face. "Thank you for the refill."

"You need to get some rest, Scratch," Cee said sternly. "You look like you haven't slept in a week."

"I haven't," he admitted. "I'm a little busy at the moment."

"You're not going to solve any crime if you can't keep your eyes open long enough to see the evidence."

"I'm fine," he shook his head. "I get a few hours of sleep each night. That's all I need."

"I'll leave the lecturing to Sabrina," Cee decided. "I'm sure she's picked up a trick or two from her aunt Hilda over the years."

He left Nick to help another customer. Nick absentmindedly dipped a fry into ketchup and popped it into his mouth, his mind spinning with details about the cases before him. It had been a six days since Angela's death, and he was no closer to zeroing in on even a person of interest. He was frustrated and running out of ideas.

His hours in the office were steadily increasing. He knew there was something he was missing. He felt it in his bones. The piece that would anchor the whole puzzle was there, he just had to find it. He picked up his phone and fired off a text to Sabrina, the one part of his life that eased his anxiety instead of skyrocketed it.

_How's Riverdale?_

_Murder-free, _she replied almost right away.

He half smiled, half cringed. She had gone with Theo to Riverdale for the day and while he knew she badly needed a day out with one of her best friends, he was anxious to have her back in Greendale. He knew it was ridiculous, thinking he could protect her every moment of every day. She didn't need nor want it, for one thing, and he certainly had his hands full at the moment. Still, there was something comforting about her being in the same town where he could get to her if needed.

_See you tonight? _ he asked, hoping for a yes.

_Your place? I'll pick up Chinese. _

_I've got the tea and the dog. _

She replied with a heart eyes emoji that made him smile.

"Detective Scratch."

Harvey took a seat on a stool a few spots down from him. It was early afternoon, the lunch crowd dissipated, the diner far quieter than it had been when Nick got there a half hour ago. He silently wished Harvey had chosen nearly any other seat.

"Office Kinkle," he replied evenly.

"Taking a break from all the evidence piling up in your office?"

"A guy has to eat." He debated just how badly he wanted to finish his meal if it meant making small talk with Kinkle. "I'm guessing you've completed your circuit of town."

"It was a busy morning," Harvey replied, taking in Nick's subtle dig about his lighter workload with a sarcastic response of his own. A waitress brought him a glass of water.

"The usual?" she asked.

"Please," Harvey replied. Nick refrained from rolling his eyes. Harvey ate the same thing every single day – a turkey club sandwich and chips. It was the subject of gossip among the officers. "You making it without Sabrina today?"

"Sabrina is her own woman," Nick said. "She doesn't need me to be with her every second of every day."

He had gathered, from things Sabrina, Ambrose, and others had said, that Harvey was, as Prudence put it, 'always around' when he was with Sabrina. He knew he was a bit pot calling the kettle black, with his tendency to try to keep her out of harms way, but he liked that Sabrina was strong, independent. Harvey had struggled with that aspect of her personality.

"It's just, with everything going on, I would have thought…" Already low on patience and running on fumes, Nick swiveled to face Harvey.

"Sabrina isn't your concern anymore," he informed the officer. "She's got me – not to mention Ambrose – to look out for her. Not that we need to. I certainly don't tell her what to do." A thought occurred to him. "How did you know she wasn't in Greendale today?"

"Theo," Harvey shrugged. Nick relaxed a bit. That made sense. Theo was his friend, too. "I'm not implying anything, Scratch. With everything going on, I've been a little more protective of my own girlfriend. I know Sabrina is – strong-willed. You just seem like the protective type."

There was something about the way he said 'protective' that made Nick bristle. He dismissed it. He didn't like Harvey because he was Sabrina's ex and tended to be more of a hindrance than help at a crime scene that was anything more than petty crime. He needed to stop looking for trouble where there wasn't any.

"Listen, Kinkle, you and I have to work together," he stated, deciding to be the bigger person. "You and Sabrina have a past. I'm with her now. That makes her a point of tension between us. From here on out, I suggest that she's an off limits conversation. It will make working with you a hell of a lot easier."

Harvey considered him.

"I'll agree to that," he said. "But I have to say something first."

"Fine," Nick relented.

"Treat her well." Nick raised an eyebrow. That wasn't what he expected. "No matter how happy I am with Roz, or even the fact that we probably should have broken up years ago, I didn't treat her well at the end. I feel terrible for how things ended, and for costing her her best friend. I hope she and Roz can eventually become friends again, for both their sakes. I'm sorry I hurt her. She never deserved that. So just – treat her well. She can be a handful, but if you can handle her, she's worth it."

"Sabrina's not a handful," Nick shook his head. "She's passionate and stubborn, kind and clever. She's brilliant at her job, in spite of being incredibly persistent when she wants answers. She loves her family, her friends. She's empathetic, somehow knows what to say or do to turn someone's day around. She's beautiful, but it comes from her heart. She's a lot of things. But she's not a handful, and she doesn't need to be handled."

Harvey looked sufficiently stunned.

"Fair enough," he nodded once. "Sabrina is now an off the table discussion item between us." He stood. "I think I'll grab a table over by the window. See you back at the station."

Nick was content to let him leave.

"That was one hell of a speech."

Cee stood nearby, artfully stacking clean glasses on the shelves under the counter.

"That wasn't a speech, Cee," Nick replied. "That was just the truth."

"It was the truth spoken from someone who sees Sabrina as she is," he said knowingly. "I'm glad she has you. We all are."

"I promise you I'm the one that's lucked out," he said. "I'll always be the flattered fool between the two of us." He took out his wallet.

"How many times do I have to tell you, Scratch?" Cee asked. "Greendale PD doesn't pay here. We do this almost every day."

"I can leave a tip, can't I?" Nick asked.

"Your so called tips are rather generous." Nick winked at Cee who shook his head with a smile.

"You're a decent human, Scratch," he declared. "Despite your taste in baseball teams. How you are a Red Sox fan after growing up in New York…"

"The bigger question is why I continue to eat at an establishment owned by a Yankees fan," he volleyed back, settling into the now familiar argument over their rival baseball teams. Cee opened his mouth to reply, but the front door burst open.

"Help!" cried a man dressed in an orange safety vest and construction hat. "Help! It's Constance Blackwood!"

Nick sprang from his stool.

"What's going on?" he demanded.

"Out here!" the man motioned. "She's covered in blood, won't stop screaming."

He led the way outside. The woman's screams filled the air. Nick spotted her instantly, standing in the middle of the road, covered in blood, but seemingly standing under her own power. Her screams paused only long enough for her to take a breath.

"Mrs. Blackwood!" He rushed to her. "Mrs. Blackwood, what happened?" She kept screaming. "Mrs. Blackwood!" He surveyed her. From what he could tell, she wasn't the one injured. He made eye contact with her. "Mrs. Blackwood, I want to help you, but I need you to stop screaming," he said calmly. "Can you do that for me?" He was vaguely aware of the crowd that was starting to gather. "Let me help you. Please."

With wide eyes, her screams died down. She didn't speak. She raised a shaking finger and pointed towards the church. Nick looked. The door was wide open, her bloody footprints trailing down the stairs and into the street. He cursed.

"No one move," he ordered. He saw Harvey, standing nearby, taking in the scene with a horrified expression that matched everyone else's. He had no choice. "Come on, Kinkle." He started towards the church, unclipping his handheld as he went. "Patrol ID 698 to dispatch, potential 10-64 at the church," he said. "Entering building with patrol ID 662. 10-32." He returned the radio to his belt and removed his gun for his holster. He saw Harvey do the same out of the corner of his eye. He moved slower, less sure. "Put on your big boy pants, Kinkle," his hissed. "We don't know what we're walking into and we're all each other has."

Gun raised, hands steady, he led them up the church steps. He checked up, peering around the doorframe of the vestibule before entering the nave. "All clear." He entered quickly, pinning himself to the wall just inside the door. Harvey did the same on the opposite side. He looked at Harvey with a raised eyebrow. Harvey, gun in his hand, but less confident, nodded once.

Talking the lead again, Nick peered around the door into the nave. He saw nothing. He looked upward, scanning the choir loft with his eyes. There were too many places to hide in the church.

"You go up," he directed Harvey. "I'll clear down."

Harvey hesitated.

"Should we wait…"

"Man up, Kinkle." Nick left him in the vestibule, hoping he had the good sense to cover him if something did happen. After a moment, he heard his footsteps going in the direction of the lost. He crept down the aisle, peering into each row of pews, following Mrs. Blackwood's bloody tracks. His confidence that the church was clear rose with each step.

The blood became heavier as he drew closer to the sanctuary. He heard a faint gurgling sound. His steps quickened, gun still raised. Several yards from the pulpit, he saw a foot.

"Who's there?" he asked.

No answer.

"Greendale PD," he tried as he continued to approach. "Who's there?"

Nothing.

Still, he knew what he was about to uncover.

He rounded the pulpit.

Father Blackwood lie in a pool of blood, eyes wide and wandering as blood seeped from countless stab wounds.

"Shit," Nick cursed. He put his gun on safety and holstered it in one quick, smooth, practiced motion. He grabbed for his radio. "Police ID 698 to dispatch, 10-52, male victim, numerous stab wounds, losing a lot of blood."

His radio chattered with confirmation, but his focus was on Father Blackwood who was trying to say something.

"De…tec…tive…"

"Help is on the way," he assured him. "Who did this?"

"It… Was…"

He coughed. Blood poured from his mouth.

"Hang on, Blackwood," Nick urged. He could already hear sirens in the distance. He looked around and spied a small table draped with a tablecloth. The table had held a large photo of Cassius just days ago. He pulled it off and tried to decide which of the wounds was the most dangerous. He opted for one where his neck met his chest and pressed down hard, working to stop the blood. He was trained in first aid, but he wasn't usually first on scene, let alone called to the scene of someone still alive. "Who did this?" he tried again. Blackwood's mouth moved, but gurgling only came out. "Was it Mrs. Blackwood?" Blackwood tried to mouth the word 'no.' "Zelda?" He prayed it wasn't the mayor. Again, he mouthed a no.

"He…" His eyes rolled back into his head.

"Blackwood," Nick demanded. "Stay with me."

"In here!" he heard Kinkle yelling. "At the pulpit!"

There was the noise of several bodies rushing towards him. He saw it, though. He couldn't quite define it, but it was like the light went out of Father Blackwood. He sat back and let go of the tablecloth.

"It's too late," he said as he stood to allow the paramedics to descend. He picked up his radio again "Police ID 698. 10-66. Notify the coroner."

He started to search the area, careful to avoid both the pool of blood and touching anything, both because his own hands were covered in blood, and because he couldn't risk damaging evidence. He stepped around a paramedic that was uselessly checking for vitals.

There, perfectly placed atop the open Bible on the pulpit, was a Scrabble piece.

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**What do we think?! **


	13. Chapter 13

**Buckle up, friends. It's update time!**

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"Hi."

"It's me," he replied when Sabrina answered her phone. "How is she?"

"The same." He heard the weariness in her voice. "She hasn't come out of her room. She's chain smoking and refusing to eat, shower, sleep… The only fluid we've gotten into her is a martini."

"Damn." He sat back in his desk chair. "What about you? How are you?"

"Tired," she confessed. "And not just in the 'could sleep for a week' way."

"I'm trying, Sabrina," he sighed. "I'm doing everything I can."

"I know," she soothed. "I know you're doing everything you can to find this person. And you will."

He sighed again, heavily this time. He wanted to believe that. He wanted to believe he was just one clue away from finding his guy. But the murderer was good. There had been no murder weapon recovered from any murder scene. So far, no DNA or even a fraction of a fiber had turned up. He had been in this position before, but he had never been this frustrated. This desperate.

"I'm going to try to leave here by nine or so," he said. "I know it'll be a little late, but what are the odds I could stop by for a few minutes? I've barely seen you these last few days. I miss you."

He had worked until past midnight the last three nights, even later the night of Blackwood's death, trying and failing to put together the ever growing pile of puzzle pieces. Sabrina had been stretched thin herself, reporting on the murders and trying to support her Aunt Zelda. She had tearfully called him two nights earlier, asking if he could get Ambrose and come to the mortuary to help coax Zelda out of the morgue where she was lying beside Blackwood's coffin, refusing to leave no matter what Sabrina or Hilda said. He had, of course, dropped everything and rushed to her aide. Ambrose had ultimately been the successful one of getting her upstairs.

"Please," she agreed. "I need to see you, Nick. Even if it's for five minutes. I just need…" she trailed off.

"What do you need?" he prompted. "Name it, and its yours." He wanted to take away some of her pain. He wanted, more than anything, to give her answers. He wanted to give the townspeople, now on edge and looking over their shoulders everywhere they went, if they went anywhere at all, answers.

"I need you to hold me," she confessed in a moment of weakness.

"I'll hold you," he promised. "I need you in my arms." He felt weak himself. He heard Hilda whisper something in the background.

"Nick? We're going to try to get Zelda to eat something. We need all hands on deck, if it goes like it did earlier. Can I call you back in a bit?"

"Always," he assured her. "If not, I'll see you later tonight. I brought Dublin to the office with me, so she'll be along for the ride."

"Then you should stay here tonight," she told him. "In fact, I insist."

"I'll stay," he agreed, not bothering to argue. "Go help Hilda. I'll see you soon, if I don't talk to you before."

He hung up and rubbed a weary hand down his face.

He was failing.

He had next to nothing to help him solve the murders stacking up before him. He had called in favors all over, even brought in the FBI to help. But he was still the lead detective, the FBI only able to support and analyze. They, too, were coming up empty handed. The only commonality was the three Scrabble tiles. Even the murders were committed differently.

He felt like he was failing with Sabrina, too. He had held her hand during Blackwood's funeral earlier that day, but he had barely left his office, barely slept, barely even ate. He was falling back into old habits, and he was fighting hard to resist them. He had to leave by nine. That was the deal he made himself.

He picked up the photos of the three Scrabble tiles he had taken to keeping on his desk. He laid them out in a line.

'W.' 'D.' 'R.'

He shifted them around.

'R.' 'W'. 'D.'

Another shift.

'D.' 'R.' 'W.'

"Got an update for me?"

Ambrose walked into his office and dropped into one of Nick's uncomfortable wood armchairs.

"I interviewed the rest of the clergy today," Nick told him. "Nothing of value. It's all the same story. Constance Blackwood knew about the affair with your aunt. They were still legally married, but had been separated for ages. She had been withholding visitation with their twins out of spite. He had Prudence draw up papers for a custody agreement a couple of days before his death. She went to refuse to sign them and found him stabbed 14 times at the pulpit." Nick knocked the desk once with his fist. "She's still hospitalized. Completely cationic."

"Prudence is trying to get an emergency order in place for the twins," Ambrose told him. "I assume she plans to take them in."

"How do you feel about that?" Nick asked.

"Their dad is dead and their mom is in no shape to care for them. There isn't a lot of family. Prudence is their half sister, whether Constance likes it or not. She'll take good care of them. I'll help her."

"Let me know if I can help," Nick offered. "I've had to give plenty of character statements in my day. I can speak highly of both you and Prudence before a judge, if needed."

"Thank you, Scratch," Ambrose said with a single nod. "I appreciate that."

"Just don't tell Sabrina if I have to say nice things about Prudence." Ambrose chuckled in spite of the somber mood they were both in.

"I won't do that to you," he promised. "Anything else? On Blackwood or otherwise?"

Nick shook his head.

"Not a damn thing." He let out an exasperated sigh. "Whoever is doing this knows what they're doing. No murder weapons. No fingerprints. No DNA of any kind. They are either law enforcement, a doctor, or they have seen too many true crime TV shows."

"I dread addressing the media tomorrow," Ambrose said. News about the murders had spread and the swarm of reporters, Sabrina usually in the front, grew with each passing press conference. "You sure you don't want to share about the Scrabble tiles?"

"Not yet," Nick shook his head. "I would guess the murderer is reading the papers, watching the news, trying to learn what they're saying about him. It may even be stroking his ego that his crimes are being covered. I want him guessing if we know about the Scrabble tiles. I've profiled a lot of these guys. He wants us to talk about the tiles. He wants the notoriety. If we don't talk about it, he might start boasting, getting a little desperate. Desperate criminals are scary – they'll do anything – but they're also sloppy. It's a chance we have to take at this point."

"Just as well," Ambrose said, lacing his hands behind his head. "I can see the headlines now. 'No New Leads On Greendale Scrabble Killer.' The townspeople would really like that."

"Scrabble Killer," Nick repeated. The gears in his mind starting to turn, slowly, as though rusty and having to work to get moving again.

"Isn't that what the press does?" Ambrose asked. "Gives the serial killer a name? Zodiac Killer? Happy Face? Golden State Murderer?"

"Scrabble Killer," Nick said again. The wheels started to move faster. "Hang on…" He shook his computer mouse to wake up the screen, images flashing through his Rolodex like memory. "It can't…" His fingers flew across the keyboard, typing in a URL he knew well.

"What's going on, Scratch?" Ambrose asked, noting Nick's sudden change from weary detective to man on a mission. He moved closer, trying to see Nick's monitor. "What are you looking for?"

"I think… Hang on…"

"Scratch!"

Nick ignored him. He clicked through screens so fast Ambrose couldn't keep up.

"What's the Penn State library have to do with anything?" Ambrose pressed, trying to read his screen. "What are you doing, Nick?"

"I still have access... Let me just…" He typed in rapid phrases, scanned archived document after archived document with fast eyes. Ambrose struggled to make sense of what he was doing. All he could make out were lined pages with scratchy cursive handwriting littered among pages and pages of small type, and the occasional drawing. Nick stopped on a document and scanned it. "Holy shit."

"What?" Ambrose demanded, exasperated. "Start talking to me Scratch!"

Nick turned his screen so Ambrose could see it better. A case summary filled the screen.

"Scrabble Killer," he said again. "It triggered something I read in Edward Spellman's journals. He had a case like this one in the late 80s as a young detective. A man terrorized a Philadelphia suburb throughout the fall. He left a Scrabble piece at every scene. He killed a total of seven people. He left tiles at the first six. They spelled out 'Julian.' The seventh person he killed was Katherine Von Krep – the daughter of Julian Von Krep, a Philadelphia detective that arrested his father, Marcus Von Krep for a brutal rape and murder. Marcus Von Krep eventually got the death penalty. The murderer – Jerry Commingle – turned himself at Katherine's murder scene – he wanted the world to know he was avenging the death of his father, Marcus."

Nick picked up his photos of the Scrabble tiles and went to the corkboard he had affixed to one wall for mapping evidence. His heart pounded in his ears. He knew he was right and he was terrified.

"Look at this." He used a pushpin to secure the first tile. "W'". The next tile. "'R.'" The last tile. "'D.'" He stood back so Ambrose could see. "'W-R-D. What's that spell?"

"W-R-D," Ambrose repeated, thinking out loud. "Word…" His eyes popped wide. "Edward."

"Exactly." Nick sat down heavily. "As in Edward Spellman."

"A copy cat killer," Ambrose realized. His own heart thundered in his chest "Someone who is likely after…"

"Sabrina," Nick finished. "Fuck, Ambrose." He smacked his desk in frustration. "Fuck!"

"Fuck," Ambrose echoed. He rubbed a hand over his face, thinking fast. "We can't tell her," he decided quickly. "If we tell her…"

"She'll do something stupid," Nick agreed. "But not telling her…" He dropped his head to his hands. He felt nauseous. He looked back to Ambrose. "It's a risk we have to take."

"We can put patrol on her," Ambrose said.

"Can we?" Nick countered. "We're short staffed as it is, but its Sabrina. She's smarter than the average person and too damned inquisitive for her own good. She will notice someone following her, no matter how good we think we are. She'll ask questions – hell, she'll probably confront them – and then all hell will break loose."

"So we do we do?" Ambrose asked. "How do we keep my cousin – your girlfriend – from being a victim?"

Nick sighed, feeling like he had aged ten years in the last three minutes.

"We catch the bastard first," he said. "There's no other option."

"We catch the bastard," Ambrose echoed with a tone somewhere between complete fear and gritty determination. "Who do we tell about this, if we're not telling Sabrina?"

Nick considered the question. There were a few ways he could approach things. He had to choose the one that was best for Sabrina.

"As few people as possible," he finally decided. "Craig, for sure. He's proven to be an asset. Then, it's on an absolutely need to know basis." He thumped the desk again, his mind spinning. "We need to research Edward's case. Marcus, Julian and Katherine Von Krep, Jerry Commingle, their family trees, relationships, all of it, see if we can tie someone to Greendale. We can't focus just there, though. We need to look at other cases. Edward could have arrested someone that's now free and out for revenge. It could be a relative of someone he prosecuted. It could literally be anyone."

That was the scariest part of all.

"Where do we start?" Ambrose asked with a hint of panic. "I'm out of my league here, Scratch. I'm a small town cop. My guys are small town cops. We've never seen anything like this. We're not trained for this"

"We start with the Penn State library," Nick said, taking charge. "I have access to their database. I'll give you and Craig my login, someone else, if needed. Mann, maybe. Edward's journals and a good number of his case files are there. I'll reach out to my contacts at the FBI, see what they can do to help us."

Ambrose picked up a pad of sticky notes on Nick's desk and tossed it to him.

"Write down that login, Scratch. The URL, too. I'll get started."

Nick made another judgment call.

"Not tonight," he decided. "Dawn tomorrow? Absolutely. But not tonight." He clicked the button to shut down his computer. "Tonight, we're going to the mortuary, and we're going to pretend like nothing is wrong. Because its eight-thirty, and I told Sabrina I would be there around nine. She needs me to show up. I need to show up. And so do you – because keeping her in the dark is the most important thing right now, second only to catching this son of a bitch. The less she knows, the safer she is."

"Pretend like everything is fine," Ambrose repeated. "I can do that."

"You're going to have to," Nick informed him. He stood and gathered his phone and car keys. Ambrose stood as well, slower and less steady. "Dublin, heir!" The dog stood from the bed he had placed in the corner, behind his desk, ready to move when he moved. "Everything about this sucks," he told Ambrose. "It's scary and overwhelming. But we have to do this, and failing isn't an option."

"I'm trusting you, Scratch," Ambrose said, looking him in the eye. "You've got a history of solving crimes like this. I don't care if you never solve another one. Just solve this one. Before its too late."

"I won't let anything happen to Sabrina," Nick promised Ambrose. He exhaled a deep breath. "I can't."

* * *

"Tell me about your day," Sabrina requested.

"There's not much to tell." A lie. "I went to work early, went to Blackwood's funeral, went back to work, and now I'm here."

They were already in her bed, the lights off, the moon providing a soft glow through her big windows. He had hugged her a little longer than necessary when he arrived at the mortuary, purely out of relief at having her in his arms. She certainly hadn't protested, burrowing into his embrace. Hilda had insisted on feeding him and Ambrose leftovers, and Ambrose had excused himself quickly after under the pretense of calling Prudence and going to bed early. Nick knew he was trying to keep from letting on that anything was wrong and hoped a good night's sleep – or at least several hours spent lying awake processing everything – would give him a better poker face. After their standard evening tea and coffee, she had suggested and early for them bedtime and he was all too happy to agree.

"Surely you had a more exciting day then that."

She had no idea.

"I did talk to Nonna for a few minutes," he recalled. It seemed likes days ago now that he had heard his grandmother's voice and not just a few hours.

"You did?" she lifted her head from his chest. She was under the impression that his grandmother wasn't able to communicate well as her dementia advanced.

"Her care facility is good about calling me when she has a rare lucid moment," he explained. "Today was the first one in a while. My phone rang just as I got back to my desk from the funeral." He smoothed a hand down Sabrina's back. "I told her about you."

"Good things, I hope." She crossed her forearms over his chest and rested her chin on them so she could see him better in the moonlight. His fingers danced under the hem of her silky tank top and caressed the skin along her low back. Dublin slept in a chair nearby while Salem took up his perch on top of the wardrobe, his spot whenever Dublin was around.

"I told her you're a pain in the ass when you decide there is a story to report on and you want answers to your questions, and that you're stubborn to a fault."

"Hey!" Sabrina protested. Nick chuckled.

"I also told her how smart you are." She smiled, which made his own lips turn up. "How beautiful you are. How kind you are." His hand slipped a little further up her back. "Mostly I told her how crazy I am about you."

"Did you tell her I'm crazy about you, too?" she asked.

"I told her you were crazy for letting a guy like me take you on a date, let alone continue to let me see you." Sabrina just smiled and shook her head in disagreement.

"I'm glad you got to talk to her," she said.

"I am too," Nick nodded. "It was good, hearing her voice. She knew who I was for a few minutes." His hand had reached her mid back now. "She won't remember our conversation by morning. I doubt she remembered she talked to me by the time she went to bed. But it was still good to talk to her, tell her about you. She's 96, you know? I know I'm lucky to have had her this long, and that up until the last few years, have her in good health."

All she could do was kiss him. She didn't have the right words to comfort him, but she didn't think it was words he needed. He just needed – her.

"You're a good grandson, Scratch," she assured him, returning her head to her stacked arms. "Decent boyfriend, too."

"Decent," he snorted. "I'm going for world's best." She laughed, but she had no idea how serious he was about that claim. "How did getting Zelda to eat something go?"

"Imagine a pride of starving lions finding a dead zebra," she said. "The opposite of that." She sighed. "It may not have been a conventional relationship, but she loved him. She's devastated."

"She's grieving," Nick said. "Everyone grieves differently. She'll come around eventually. Just give her time, let her experience grief however she needs to experience it."

"I hate to see her hurting," Sabrina confided. "So many people I care about are hurting right now. It's hard to watch."

He wrapped his free arm around her and hugged her, his hand under her shirt now at her bra line. She wasn't wearing a bra, he realized, but there wouldn't be more than a few stolen kisses tonight. As much as he wanted to make love to her, he wasn't willing to let their first time be a night when his thoughts were tangled around how to keep her from being a victim while her family slept down the hall.

"It's hard to see you hurting," he told her. "I know I don't know these people, not like you do, but even as an outsider, it's been a rough couple of months."

"I don't think I've ever told you that I think its sweet that you go to their funerals," she said. "You don't know them. You don't have the same attachments to them. But you still pay your respects. Did you do that a lot in New York?"

"Some. Not as much as I do here, but once in a while there was a victim that struck a chord with me or a family I became particularly involved with. I would try to go to those funerals when I could, pay my respects."

"I can't imagine what you've seen in your career." She moved back to his side, causing his hand under her shirt to slid around to her torso. "How you're still the way you are – it's a wonder."

"I compartmentalize," he said again. "I have to. Otherwise, I couldn't do this job. That, and there's a certain amount of satisfaction in knowing I help put people who do terrible things behind bars where they can't hurt anyone else." His fingertips caressed her side. "Can we change the topic? I think both of us could do with less murder and death talk."

"Agreed." She snuggled closer. "I'm glad you're here, Scratch. I needed this today."

"I did, too." His hand slipped from her side to her hip, coming from under her shirt and sliding over the silk of her matching shorts. He kissed her forehead. "When all of this is over and I've got this guy behind bars, I want to take you to New York, introduce you to my Nonna, show you the real thing, not all those tourist traps you saw as a student."

It gave him something to cling to, something to look forward to. It was one more reason to keep Sabrina safe, to find whoever was terrorizing Greendale.

"I'd like that." Her own hand trailed along his bare chest. "I want to tell your Nonna how wonderful of a job she did raising you."

"I just want her to meet you," he said. "I know she would love you, especially if she's lucid." His fingertips brushed down her thigh and back up, this time slipping under the hem of her shorts. "I'll guess it will be a lot like Dublin – she meets you and I'm pretty much chopped liver."

"She would never think of you as chopped liver," Sabrina said. His hand slid fully under her shorts, working up the outside of her thigh. "That hand of yours is busy tonight, Scratch."

His hand stilled.

"I'm sorry…"

"No," she cut him off. Her fingertips skimmed along the top of his boxer briefs. She had had to convince him to get down to his most comfortable, him ever respectful of her aunts down the hall. "I like it."

He kissed her, his hand slipping around to cup her bare ass. He gave it a squeeze. She hitched her leg over his hip. She had no doubt he wanted her, but she knew they wouldn't go that far that night. He was exhausted, and she knew him well enough to know he wouldn't make love to her while her aunts and Ambrose were just doors away.

Still, she could leave him wanting more for next time.

She moved so she was straddling his hips.

"What are you…"

"Shh," she put her finger to his lips. "Relax."

Try as he did to be respectful, he was still a man and with a beautiful woman straddling him, his desires fought to overtake him. She left a searing kiss on his lips. He hissed when her lips left his and nipped along his jaw line.

"Sabrina," he sighed out as she worked down his chest, his hand buried in her hair. He allowed himself to feel, but kept just enough control to pull her back to his lips when she got dangerously close to an area he wouldn't come back from. "My girl," he groaned into her mouth. He sat up, them chest to chest. "You're going to be the death of me," he declared. He turned them so he could lower her back to the pillows. He placed on last deep kiss on her lips. "I'll be right back."

"Wait… What…?" She looked at him, confused.

"I need to take a cold shower," he admitted. "I'll be back in a few minutes."

"Or you could…" She knew the answer would be no, but she still trailed her hand down his chest in an effort to convince him to stay.

"I want to." He took a moment to look at her, lips plump from where his had been, eyes full of lust. "God, I want to." He had to kiss her again. "But your aunts are down the hall, Ambrose, too." He smoothed a hand over her hair. "And I don't want us to be constrained." He flashed a wicked smile. "I plan to keep you under me for a long time when we make love for the first time. And I don't plan for us to be quiet about it."

It took every ounce of willpower he had to get out of bed and go to her bathroom. He turned on the shower, but used his hand to relieve himself. When he emerged, she had called Dublin to her.

"See?" he asked. "My dog likes you better than me."

"I felt sorry for her, sleeping in that chair all alone."

"And yet you're okay with poor Salem perching on the wardrobe all night?" Nick countered with a grin.

"Salem doesn't snuggle," Sabrina informed him. "Dublin does."

Nick had to move the dog out of his spot to get back into bed. She huffed as she settled at their feet.

"I snuggle," he informed her. "All you have to do is come over here." Sabrina laughed and came to settle back in at his side, head on his chest. It was quickly becoming her favorite spot. "There we go."

"For the record, this celibacy thing we're doing?" she asked. "I have mixed feelings."

"Oh?" He was surprised by her forwardness.

"I like that you're so considerate," she said. "You're a gentleman in every sense of the word. But Nick, you can't be enjoying cold showers any more than I enjoy thinking 'maybe this time' only to have a car alarm go off or my aunts sleeping down the hallway." She lifted her head to look at him. "Is there something or some reason…"

"No," he said emphatically. "Nothing like that." He brushed her hair away from her face, aware that he wasn't entirely telling the truth. "I want to do this right, Sabrina. All of it. I'm just not comfortable defiling my boss' cousin while he sleeps down the hall, no matter how accepting he is of us."

"I've been defiled with Ambrose down the hall plenty of times," she told him bluntly.

"There's an image I could have done without." He made a face at the thought of Officer Kinkle touching her in the places he wanted to touch her, kissing the parts of her his lips hadn't yet explored. He vowed to make her forget all about Kinkle when he finally had her. Her fingers danced along his chest.

"Just so you know, I haven't been with anyone since Harvey." She bit her lip nervously. "I've only ever been with Harvey. Our last time together was over six months ago."

She was being honest with him. He needed to do the same, even if he might not look so good in the end.

"I had a few one night stands just before I moved," he admitted. "I um," he hesitated, searching for the right words, "went through a little bit of a rough stretch, made some choices I'm not proud of." He smoothed a hand down her back. "I'm back on two feet now and like I said, I want to do this right with you." He hooked his finger under her chin and lifted it so he could look into her eyes. "You're pretty special, Spellman. I don't want to mess things up with you."

She kissed him.

"I don't care about your past, Scratch," she told him as she settled back into his embrace. "I only care about the guy you are now. And he's pretty great."

A stretch of silence passed between them, but neither of them closed their eyes, both minds busy. Nick thought of the case before him, his mind spinning through the evidence, searching for any small detail he may have missed. She thought of Nick, wondered what, exactly, had happened in his past.

"Nick?" she asked after a while. "How long ago did you breakup with Amalia?"

"It'll be a year in January," he said. "Why?"

"Just curious."

"You're no rebound, Spellman," he assured her. "You're certainly not a one night stand." He knew how he felt about her, but the words weren't quite ready to pass through his lips. "I made a lot of mistakes with Amalia, but I learned from them. I'm a better man now."

She wanted to know more about those mistakes, what exactly Nick had meant when he said he had had a rough stretch. But he was exhausted – she could see it in the bags under his eyes, the slight sag of his shoulders – and she knew he would only share when he was ready. She would learn the truth eventually, but for now, she would let him off the hook.

"You're a good man," she said. "Just – keep me in your arms tonight?"

"I'm not letting you go anywhere." He meant that more than she could ever know. He reached out to the nightstand on his side of the bed and picked up his phone. "I've got to get up early, get to the station," he said as he set an alarm. "I'll probably be gone before breakfast…"

"No, sir," Sabrina interrupted him. "I know you have a lot on your plate at the station, but you're going to get some sleep and you're going to eat some breakfast in the morning. You have barely left the station in days. Unless there's an emergency, you're going to sleep at least an hour long than you're planning to right now, let Aunt Hilda feed you something, and at least start your day well-rested and well-fed, no matter how long you intend to stay at the office tomorrow."

"Sabrina, I have so much…"

"End of discussion," she cut him off. "You're doing this for me, Nick. Change that alarm before you put that phone down."

He sighed. He wanted to argue, inform her he needed to be in the office at an early hour in an effort to crack the case, figure out who was terrorizing Greendale, not to mention the fact that he was trying to keep her from being the next victim. But if he were with her, even for an hour longer than he intended to be, it would be worth it. And she would be safe.

"Fine," he relented, changing the alarm on his phone. "You win, Spellman." He put the phone down. "Now, how about one more goodnight kiss?"

She obliged with a sweet kiss that he felt around his heart.

"Goodnight, Nick," she said, snuggling close to him.

"Goodnight, beautiful."

He pressed a kiss to her forehead and closed his eyes. He hadn't prayed in years, but with her in his arms, the scent of her lemon shampoo filing his nostrils, he prayed he would have this for a long time to come – he just had to keep her alive.

* * *

**I do love a good game of Scrabble.**


	14. Chapter 14

"Are you sure that thing won't eat me?"

"Positive," Sabrina nodded. "She's sweet, Theo. Big, but sweet."

Theo eyed Dublin skeptically as Dublin dutifully lay at Sabrina's feet. Cee hadn't batted an eye when she waltzed into the diner with the dog trailing at her side. He shared her opinion – the dog was more human than dog.

"Why do you have the dog, exactly?" Theo asked. "You've had her for a few days now."

"Nick's putting in long hours at the station," she explained. "He was taking Dublin in with him, but she was spending hours basically staring at walls while he worked. I offered to take her for a walk when I stopped by the other day, and just didn't take her back."

"It's like you're holding the dog hostage."

"Hardly," Sabrina shook her head. "Granted, I have to go to the station if I want to see Nick lately, but he seems pretty content to let Dublin stay with me." She popped a fry in her mouth. "I'm no fool, though. That dog is doing his dirty work."

"What do you mean?" Theo asked.

"He's worried about me. I can tell by the way he checks in, asks me what my plans are for the day, things like that. Even when he's at the studio, he makes sure I'm hme at nightfall. He's asked me not to walk through the woods alone while this murderer is on the loose."

"That's not bad advice…"

"He's got Dublin watching out for me. I know he does. I was at his house the night of my birthday and a car alarm went off. He told her something in German and left her with me while he went to investigate. She wouldn't let me off the couch. When Nick came back, he told me he'd asked her to guard me. I have no doubt he's done something similar now."

"He's protective," Theo observed. "You hated that about Harvey."

Sabrina stirred her ketchup with a fry.

"It's different with Nick," she shared. "Harvey constantly tried to do things for me. He meant well, but it just felt like he was in the way. He would just show up and start changing the oil in my car and while I appreciated it, it would always be when I needed to go somewhere. Or he would insist on carrying my bag while we were on a date. Maybe some women like that, but I'm perfectly capable of carrying my own bag, and ask me before you start taking my car apart.

"With Nick, he's subtle. He stays on the side closest to the road when we're walking somewhere. He will click my seatbelt into place while leaning into my car to kiss me goodbye. When I've showed up at a scene trying to get information for a story, he's stepped in and kept me from seeing things I don't need to see. But he doesn't try to stop me. It's like he not only knows I tend to be independent, but he likes that about me. I do think he would like to have me locked in a tower, safe and sound until whoever is doing this is caught, but he knows I would find a way to break out, and then break up with him, so he does what he can, which is leave his dog with me."

"You two do seem happy together," Theo mused. "You're kind of like Greendale's own power couple. Sabrina Spellman, ace reporter. Nicholas Scratch, detective extraordinaire."

"I just hope they find whoever killed Cassius, Angela, and Blackwood. Nick is working almost around the clock. So is Ambrose. I want this person off the street, and I want my boyfriend back."

"Do they have any leads?" Theo asked. "Anything at all?"

"If they do, they aren't talking," Sabrina sighed. "I've tried to coax it out of both of them. Ambrose rolls his eyes and tells me to go away. Nick… Well, he would hold up well under torture."

"I don't want to know," Theo shook his head.

"Let's just say the day I took Dublin, I locked us in his office and tried to convince him to talk. I got his dog and he got a cold shower in the locker room, but I didn't get any additional information."

Theo half cringed, half laughed.

"I just can't believe they don't know something," he said.

"I feel like Nick knows more than he's letting on," Sabrina admitted. "He's keeping his cards close to his chest. Ambrose doesn't say much about the investigation, but he did say he's never seen someone as savvy and instinctive as Nick when it comes to investigating a crime."

"They have to have a lead," Theo said as though willing it to be true. The entire town was on edge, everyone looking over their shoulder, keeping their kids indoors, even canceling town events and after school activities. The mood was tense and answers were scarce. "They have to."

Sabrina said nothing. She hoped, too, that they had a lead. But she couldn't shake the feeling that Nick was keeping something from her. Both personally and professionally. She had no reason to suspect as much, but something nagged at her that said he wasn't quite telling the whole truth – about the murders or Amalia.

Dublin lifted her head suddenly, her ears perked up, her eyes on the door. Sabrina looked just in time to see a weary Nick walk in. His eyes fell on her just as she broke into a smile. He gave her a tired smile of her own.

"Speaking of the devil," Theo muttered.

"Hi," Nick greeted them with a note of exhaustion of that couldn't be missed.

"You do exist," Sabrina quipped as he approached.

"Don't be like that," he muttered as he leaned down to kiss her quickly. She frowned at the response. "Hey, Theo," he added as knelt to greet Dublin who was now sitting up, tail wagging, beating against Theo and Sabrina's legs. "Hi, girl. You looking out for Sabrina?" Dublin licked him in the face.

"She's doing a really good job of keeping your side of the bed warm," Sabrina supplied with a smile.

"Sabrina, don't," Nick warned. "I'm working."

"I was joking," Sabrina said, surprised by the irritable mood Nick seemed to be in. "That's all."

"It's not funny," he replied, attention on Dublin. Sabrina's frown grew.

"You know," Theo said, sensing the rapidly thickening tension between them. "I'm going to go… Over there… Say hi to someone…" He hurried away from their booth, taking part of his sandwich with him.

"What the hell, Nick?" Sabrina demanded. "You're being a jerk right now."

"I don't need you making me feel guilty about the amount of time I'm putting in at the station," he informed her. "I feel bad enough, not being around much, not making any headway on this case…."

Sabrina realized it wasn't really her that Nick was mad at.

"Come on," she said, sliding out of the booth. She grabbed Nick by the hand. "Theo?" she called. "We'll be right back." She pulled Nick through the restaurant, Dublin trailing behind them, and out a back entrance marked 'Employee Use Only.' Once they were in the ally behind the restaurant, she rounded on Nick. "Start talking, Scratch."

He sighed heavily.

"Sabrina…"

"No," she cut him off. "You don't get to walk into Cee's, be a jerk, and not give me an explanation."

He ran a hand through his hair. It was longer than he usually kept it, curling at the ends and a bit unruly. She liked it, even though she knew he was desperate for a haircut. He had a bit of scruff, too, and his eyes were heavy with fatigue. He looked like he needed to sleep for the next week straight.

"I don't have time to argue…"

"I'm not trying to argue," Sabrina told him, working to hold onto her patience. "I am worried about you though. This attitude isn't like you." He bit his lip and looked away. She put a gentle hand on his arm. "What's wrong, Nick?"

He sighed again. This time, his hand ran down his face.

"I'm sorry," he said with a shake of his head, recognizing she was right to call him out on his current mood. "I'm tired. Frustrated. I've got a lot on my mind and I just… took it out on you." He looked at her with soft eyes. "Forgive me?"

"I'll consider it," she said, not backing down, "but you need to give me more of an explanation than that."

Nick closed his eyes and took a calming breath. In that moment, he both loved and hated that she wasn't willing to let things go with a simple 'forgive me.' He loved her independent streak until he was on the receiving end of it. When he opened his eyes, she was watching him expectantly.

"Sabrina, I haven't slept more than a few hours at a time in days," he confessed. "I've got a case that feels like its going nowhere that I desperately need to solve. I'm neglecting my girlfriend and my dog, and honestly, I just want to sit at a table and eat a damned cheeseburger, but I'm going to have to get it to go because I can't waste the time it would take to eat anywhere other than my desk. My fuse is short, and my temper is brewing."

He was carrying the weight of the world – or at least Greendale – on his shoulders, Sabrina realized. Each day that passed without answers was another day Nick felt like he was failing. Again, she was suspicious he wasn't telling her the whole story. But that wasn't the problem at hand right now.

"Come here, Scratch." She pulled him to her and wrapped her arms around his neck. She could feel the tension in his shoulders, the tightness of his muscles as his arms circled around her. "You're doing everything you can. I know you want to solve this case…"

"I need to solve this case," he interjected, hugging her to him.

"But you have to take care of yourself, too." She pulled away just enough to look up at him. "Don't worry about me. You're not neglecting me – or Dublin, she's living her best life with Aunt Hilda sneaking her table scraps. I'm sorry if my joking upset you. I know you have to prioritize the case right now. I also know it won't always be like this. Once you solve the case, you and I will go back to having dates and spending time together." She gave him a small smile. "And maybe make another pizza?"

"I'll make you a pizza every day for a month when this is over, if that's what you want." He hugged her again. "I'm sorry, Sabrina. I just keep hitting dead ends in this case, and then when you said…" he trailed off.

"When I said…?" she prompted. She watched him bite his lip in his hesitant sort of way that told her he was about to confide something in her.

"I worked like this all the time in New York," he admitted after a beat. "Here, I know, ultimately, like you said, it's temporary. We will figure this out – somehow – and things will go back to normal. I'll go back to writing parking tickets to fill my day with something because the crime rate will be virtually nothing. But with the NYPD, it was always like this. I put in sixteen plus hour days almost daily and even on my days off, I was still spinning my wheels on cases, thinking through evidence.

"Amalia and I… we fought over my job a lot," he confessed. "She felt neglected, I felt like she was being clingy, or else didn't understand that I had to work those hours to give families closure. The thing is, she wasn't entirely wrong, and I've dealt with a lot of guilt over it." He cupped Sabrina's cheek in his hand. "That's why I made it a point to come to your birthday party. I could have easily stayed at the office until morning, but your birthday was important to you, and I wanted to be there. When you made that joke about me existing… Amalia used to say things like, but it wasn't a joke. We would end up in a huge fight, I'd apologize and promise to do better, fail to do better, rinse and repeat."

"I really did mean it as a joke." She turned her head and kissed his palm. "I'm sorry, Nick. I didn't know."

"No, I'm sorry." He pulled her into another hug. It helped, having her in his arms. It was reassurance that she was safe, for one, but it was also just good to have her, to know there was someone who cared for him. "I'm tired, hungry, frustrated… I reacted without thought. Really, I should just be happy to get five minutes with you."

He had known she was at Dr. Cerberus. While they had agreed they couldn't have a police detail on her at all times, Officer Craig, one of the few officers who knew the full story behind the Scrabble tiles, had reported seeing her and Theo enter the diner while on patrol. He had shown up not just for lunch, but to see her, in spite of how quickly south things had gone.

"Can I make a suggestion?" she asked, arms still around him.

"Let's hear it."

"Let's go back inside. You order your cheeseburger, but sit with Theo and I to eat it…" He was already shaking his head.

"I have to…"

"Nick, will thirty minutes to take a mental break, sit with your girlfriend, her friend, and your dog, and eat something really make or break the case?" she interrupted.

He sighed. She was right. As much as he didn't want her to be, they were no closer to solving the case than they had been a week ago.

"You have a point," he conceded. "Besides, I would be a fool to turn down the chance to spend a few minutes with you." He brought her closer again. "What about now? Forgive me?"

She smiled and nodded.

"I forgive you," she said. "On the condition that you really do sit and eat."

"I'll sit and eat," he promised. "Barring an emergency."

"Fair enough."

He kissed her, a bit more of his tension falling away as she kissed him back. When they parted, he took his keys from his belt.

"Sleep at my place tonight?" He removed his house key and held it out to her. "I'll be late – well past dinner, most likely – but I wouldn't hate finding you in my bed when I get there."

"I'll leave the door unlocked for you," she said, accepting the key.

"Absolutely not," Nick shook his head. "I've got a spare key in my desk at work. Lock the house up as soon as you get there."

"I will," she promised. "Now, how about that cheeseburger?"

He took her offered hand, but stopped her as she made to lead them inside.

"I really am sorry about just now," he said.

"It's okay, Nick. Really."

He cupped her cheek again.

"You are everything to me, Sabrina. I hope you know that."

"I do, Nick." She stepped forward and kissed him. "You make me really happy. I hope you know that."

He kissed her again.

"Dublin?" she called when they pulled apart. "Hier!" Dublin trotted up to them, ready for her next command, eager to please. "You might not get her back, Scratch," she said, giving the dog a scratch behind the ear.

"I think I'm the one that's going to get the best end of this deal," he predicted. He pulled open the door for Sabrina. "I'll get my dog back." He smacked her ass playfully when she walked past, making her yelp. "And my girl, too."

* * *

Nick glanced at the clock. It wasn't quite seven. He had intended to stay as late as he needed to, but reasonably, he knew he wouldn't solve any case that night. He simply didn't have the clues he needed to connect the dots, and the research into Edward's cases was slow but steady and so far, hadn't turned up much they could use.

He felt bad about the argument he and Sabrina had earlier, even if he had apologized and she had forgiven him. He knew she was already at his place. She had sent him a short video of herself locking the door behind her when she got there and it had reminded him to put his spare key on his key ring. He could go home, he reasoned, and spend some time with her.

He needed to spend time with her.

For both their sakes.

His mind made up, he started clearing his desk, careful to put away files at the end of the day. Sabrina tended to pop into his office unannounced and while he didn't mind – and in fact liked it – he didn't want her to learn more about the case than what he wanted her to know. He didn't wan to run the risk of another officer not directly involved with the case learning the whole truth either He was thinking of how he hoped Sabrina would be surprised to have him home early when he came across photos from the Wardwells.

He had looked at them a hundred times. Each time revealed nothing new. Despite closing the case, and despite what he told Ambrose, he still couldn't quite accept the murder-suicide theory. He absentmindedly picked up the photos and shuffled through them, unfazed by the graphic nature of them.

He stopped on a photo of their living room. He frowned and peered closer. His eyes grew big.

"No…"

He brought the photo into better light. He couldn't be sure…

He had already logged out of his computer, but he quickly logged back in and waited impatiently for the system to boot up. He clicked through several files, searching for the living room photo. When he found it, he blew it up and zoomed in.

"Son of a bitch!"

He shoved back from his desk in a hurry, printed photo in hand, and rushed down the hall to Ambrose's office. The door was closed, but he didn't bother knocking. He threw it open.

"Captain…"

"As much as I hate to say it, someone better be dead if you're interrupting me," Ambrose stopped him. "I have got to get a draft of the budget done…"

"I need you to re-open the Wardwell case."

"What? Scratch, no, we've been through this…"

"Adam Wardwell didn't kill his wife." He dropped the photo on Ambrose's desk and pointed to the blurred speck that had caught his attention. "You can see it better on my computer when I enlarged the photo, but that? That's a damned Scrabble tile."

Ambrose stared blankly.

"Tell me you're lying."

Nick shook his head.

"It's a Scrabble tile," he confirmed. "An 'E' if I'm making out the letter correctly. I'm going to send it to the lab, have them use their equipment to enhance it to confirm But the Wardwells were the first murders, Ambrose, not Cassius. We need to re-open their case. Now."

A heavy moment passed between them.

"I'll call Prudence," Ambrose finally said. "She can help us file an emergency injunction to re-open it. I'll have to alert their daughter as well."

"Do it," Nick said, heart pounding. "I can't look at the evidence until you do." His head spun, thinking of Sabrina. "That means, if he's truly a copycat, we have two more murders before…"

"Before he goes after Sabrina," Ambrose finished. "Scratch, we can't…"

"We won't," he promised. "Call Prudence. I'm going to send this photo." He turned on his heel and rushed back to his office. He hurriedly sent off the photo, then started digging through his files for his notes on the Wardwell case. Surely there was something there he had dismissed before that would make sense now.

"The jimmied door." Ambrose was in his office. "You saw it. You knew then that something was fishy." He shook his head. "I should have listened to you. We could have caught this guy…"

"Don't do down that road," Nick warned. "You can't think 'what if,' Ambrose. It'll eat you alive. Trust me."

"But, Scratch, we missed a double homicide…"

"We followed the evidence," Nick reminded him. "There is not a person out there that would blame us for ruling with what we saw. We had no idea of what was to come. If we would have noticed the Scrabble piece on the coffee table before, we would have dismissed it, thought it was a stray game piece that didn't make it back into the box. We would have never connected the dots, not then."

"But you knew…"

"I didn't know," Nick corrected. "I had a gut feeling something was off, but everything else checked out, right down to the fact that Mary Wardwell often locked herself out of the house, so the damaged door made sense."

"I should have listened to you," Ambrose shook his head. "We could have stopped this guy before he killed three more people…"

"I don't think we could have," Nick said. "You know as well as I do that the little evidence we have isn't telling us much. Whoever it is knows how to cover his tracks. That makes him all that much more dangerous. He got us to believe the Wardwells were a murder-suicide. He knows what he's doing."

"We have to find him," Ambrose said, unable to hide the panic. "Nick, Sabrina…"

It was the fact that Ambrose called him 'Nick' that told him Ambrose was speaking as his friend and not his Captain right then. He was also beginning to panic.

"Ambrose, listen to me," Nick demanded. Ambrose took a breath and nodded. "You cannot go down the 'what if' path. Neither can I. I know it's tempting. Hell, I lay awake at night taking a leisurely stroll down it, so I'm the pot calling the kettle black. But we have to stay focused on what's in front of us. We have to figure out who is doing this. Because Sabrina's life depends on it." It was that thought that made them both somber. "It's down to you and I to make sure she's not his next victim. I can't lose her, Ambrose. And I know you can't either."

The urgency of the situation filled the space around them. Fear was there. But so was a quiet determination.

"So what do we do?" Ambrose asked. "I'll say it again, Scratch. I'm out of my league. Three months ago, I was arguing with Father Blackwood over whether he deserved a speeding ticket, and that was the most stressful day of my job in weeks. Now I'm trying to solve five murders, including his, and keep my cousin from being a victim. I need you to tell me what to do."

Nick considered him. He had already decided on the next step, but he wasn't sure Ambrose would like it.

"We give Sabrina a scoop," he said. "But we're going to leave out one major detail."

* * *

Sabrina sat on Nick's couch, a bowl of popcorn on one side, Dublin on the other, a cup of tea in her hands. She had plucked one of Nick's NYPD t-shirts from the pile of clean clothes in his bedroom that never seemed to make it into drawers, and found a throw in a hall closet that she had tossed over her when she couldn't figure out how to work his thermostat to knock the chill off the old house. She was content as she watched a classic chick flick, hopeful Nick wouldn't be too late getting home, although she knew the odds weren't in her favor.

Without warning, Dublin suddenly jumped from the couch. She trotted out of the room, tail wagging.

"Dublin?" she called. "Where are you going?"

She heard the sound of keys in the door and smiled. Nick was home – and earlier than she expected him.

"Sabrina?" he called.

"In here!" she called back. She put her tea down and moved the popcorn to the coffee table. She stood just as Nick walked in. "You're home early…" Ambrose appeared behind him. "Ambrose? What are you doing here?" Her heart stuttered. "Is everything okay? Please don't say there was another murder…"

Nick was momentarily struck dumb, taking in the sight of her standing in his living room, wearing one of his t-shirts that skimmed mid-thigh. She looked entirely too comfortable, and he wished he had left Ambrose at the station.

"No, no, nothing like that," Ambrose assured her, shooting Nick a look that said he knew exactly where his detective's mind had gone. "Scratch and I need a favor."

"Oh?" She raised an eyebrow. Nick came back to his senses.

"How would you like a scoop?" he asked.

"Always." Her eyes started to twinkle in the way they always did when she got wind of a story.

"Adam Wardwell didn't murder his wife," Nick told her. "The Wardwells were the first murders. Not Cassius." Sabrina frowned.

"Wait. You're saying…"

"The Wardwells were murdered," Ambrose confirmed. "By the same person who murdered Cassius, Angela, and Blackwood."

Sabrina had to sit down.

"Start talking," she demanded. "Tell me everything."

"Get your recorder out," Nick directed. "We've got a lot to tell you."

* * *

He watched her work, fingers flying across the keyboard so fast they were a blur. She was completely focused, even though he was lying in bed beside her, head propped up on his arm bent behind him, openly staring at her.

She was stunning, all of her makeup washed away, half of her hair pulled back into a messy knot. She bit her lip in concentration, paused only briefly to check a fact or re-read a sentence. He couldn't resist reaching out to poke her.

"Stop," she chided. "I'm on a tight deadline if we want this on the front page in the morning."

"I'm trying not to distract you."

"You're not doing a very good job."

"How's the article coming?" he asked.

"Close to done. I can't believe this, Nick. Greendale is going to lose their minds when they see the front page in the morning."

"I just hope this son of a bitch sees it and realizes we're on to him," he said. "He'll think we're closing in."

"Are you closing in?" Sabrina asked. Nick was too alert for her.

"No comment."

She huffed in annoyance. He and Ambrose had refused to tell her if they had any viable leads. She was also still in the dark about the fact that they believed she was the murderer's ultimate goal. Nick's heart squeezed as he thought about the beautiful woman sitting in his bed falling into the hands of someone he failed to protect her from. He sat up and moved so he was sitting behind her, his legs on either side of her.

"You're still distracting me, Scratch," she warned. He kissed her shoulder where his t-shirt sleeve had slipped to reveal her soft skin.

"I don't mean to," he said genuinely. "I'm just glad you're here."

"Can you express that gratitude in about a half hour?" she asked. "When this story is submitted?" He kissed her shoulder again, then leaned back into the pillows, his legs still around Sabrina.

"Let the record state that you're the one pumping the brakes tonight," he teased. Sabrina rolled her eyes.

"You're the one that gave me the scoop of a lifetime," she informed him. She swung her legs to the side. "So really, you did it to yourself."

"Where are you going?" he asked as she climbed over him, laptop in hand.

"To finish this in the living room," she stated. "Sans distractions." She gave him a warning look that made him chuckle. "You stay in here."

"Hurry back," he called after her. She gave him a playful look over her shoulder as she exited, pretending she wasn't affected by him lying in bed in nothing but a pair of black boxer briefs. Now wasn't the time. Her story was too important. Dublin stood and trotted after her. "Seriously, Dublin?" Nick asked. Unlike Sabrina, Dublin didn't look back. "Women," he muttered with a smile. He rolled over in bed, content to wait for her.

Thirty minutes later, her story filed and already live on the paper's website, she returned to the bedroom. Nick was asleep on his stomach, his arms stuffed under a pillow. She stood and watched his even breathing for a few moments, feeling her own heart somehow both squeeze and expand. She was sure she loved him. She was also terrified. Someone in Greendale was a murderer. And the man she loved was the one determined to find him.

She turned off the bedside lamp and lifted the covers. Nick's eyes blinked open.

"All done?" he asked sleepily.

"All done," she confirmed as she slid into bed next to him. "It's live on the website and will run on the front page tomorrow morning."

Nick moved so he could rest his head on her chest. She rubbed circles on his back, sensing that he needed comforting and knowing he would never admit to it. The tension was still in his back and neck, his muscles tight beneath her fingers.

"Let's get breakfast in the morning," Nick mumbled. "We'll have to. I don't have food in my kitchen at this rate, and I know it's going to be a crazy day for both of us once your story gets out there."

"Breakfast would be nice," she agreed. Her hands ran through Nick's hair. "We should go kind of early though, try to avoid as many people as we can since we know they'll be asking questions."

"Good call," Nick agreed. He sighed contently in spite of the dire situation they were in. Her fingers working through his hair provided a sense of comfort he hadn't felt in a long time. "Sabrina?"

"Hmm?"

He lifted his head to look at her through the dark.

"I know you're independent and don't need me to protect you. I love that about you. But until this guy is off the streets…" He trailed off, trying to find the right words. "Just – be careful, okay? Don't do anything dumb. Don't go out at night alone, hell try not to be alone in the daytime. Stay out of the woods, don't talk to people you don't know… Just – be smart, okay?"

She heard the worry in Nick's voice. He was genuinely afraid for her. She understood – she was scared for him, too.

"Am I wasting my breath asking you to do the same?" she asked.

"A bit," he admitted. "I'll be smart, but if I get the chance to bring him down, I will."

"I'll take some additional precautions," she promised. "I'm staying out of the woods like I promised you. I just hope this ends soon."

"Me, too," Nick said. He leaned up and kissed her sweetly. "Get some rest, beautiful. We both need it."

He fell asleep with her fingers still working through his hair. Sabrina lie awake, however, trying to wrap her mind around everything she now knew.

And wondering what, exactly, Nick was leaving out.


	15. Chapter 15 - Interlude

**Something a bit different...**

* * *

_He has to wait three nights after the 'Scrabble Killer' story breaks for his opportunity. The conditions have to be just right, and he's frustrated with the progress he's making towards his end goal. It's his fault. He has decisions to make, and they need to be made quickly_

_And he hadn't counted on the new detective._

_When he planned this, Fred Marks was in the role. The man was a lot of things, but he was also old school. He didn't know all the new tricks of forensics testing that this Detective Scratch knew. Still, he had planned this, and so far, he was certain the Greendale PD had no idea who he was, even if they did finally put together his Scrabble piece signature._

_It was a guess as to whether they were smart enough to piece together the bigger picture. He was worried they knew his end goal, but the girl wasn't well protected, all things considered. She had altered her route home, driving more, walking less, staying out of the woods, but she was still going about her usual routine without the police protection he would have expected if they knew. From what he's gathered, the detective is rather protective of the girl, and if his digging into Scratch's past is correct, with good reason._

_He takes a deep breath and steps through the shadows. He had to watch and wait for exactly the right opportunity. He needed Scratch home, alone, and his SUV parked in just the right spot. He also had to wait until both the girl and the dog – the damn dog could be a problem, he reasoned – weren't around. The dog would bark if it heard so much as a twig snap, and Scratch was sure to be on higher alert if the girl were with him._

_The detective had been home for over an hour now. The lights were all off, the house seemingly quiet. It was helpful, that Scratch was keeping such long hours. He had dragged himself home at midnight, tired, judging by his gait. If he were tired, he would react slower if he heard anything._

_Especially without the girl and the dog around._

_He creeps up to the SUV, careful of his position, staying as low to the ground as he could. He wasn't entirely certain he wouldn't be caught by a neighbor's surveillance camera, but it hadn't been hard to break into the detective's video stream, figure out the blind spots. If he were caught at all, it would be as a dark mass moving through the night. He even changed his gait, careful to downplay any characteristic that might give him away._

_At the SUV, he dropped to his stomach and crawled under the vehicle. He was careful with the sharp scissors, taking care not to cut all the way through, starting first with the side closest to his house, then with the other side. He carefully angled himself from under the car and tucked the scissors into the sleeve of his jacket. He didn't stand fully upright until he was well away from the detective's house. He rolled his shoulders to alleviate the tension and smirked to himself._

_He wasn't trying to kill the detective, per se. Dead detectives were messy, maybe even messier than librarians, grieving mothers, and priests._

_But he could warn him._

_And scare her._

_That's exactly what he intended to do._


	16. Chapter 16

_Fun fact. Dublin really likes blueberry muffins. _

Nick chuckled as he read the text from Sabrina. He missed having Dublin around, but it was a win/win situation that she had essentially taken his dog. Dublin would keep Sabrina safe while Sabrina kept the dog active instead of perched at his side in his office, watching him work.

_Hilda? _he typed backed.

_Zelda, actually. And the twins. She's eaten like a queen this morning. _

Nick chuckled again and sat his phone down long enough to snap on his tactical suspenders. He looped his badge around his neck and finally strapped on his belt. He picked up the phone again.

_She's never going to want to come home,_ he wrote.

_I think she might… Tonight? She might bring a friend… _

_Is that friend you?_

He put the phone down again. In a practiced motion, he picked up his duty gun, loaded the magazine, and ensured it was on safety. He tucked it into his holster.

_It is in fact me. What do you think, Scratch? Up for a sleepover? _

_With you? _he typed back. _Always. _

She sent back a heart-eyed emoji.

_Come whenever. _He stuffed his wallet in his back pocket. _Use your key. Probably won't be home until after dinner, but I'll keep you posted. _

He thought, maybe, he could pull off being home in time for dinner that night, barring anything drastic. They hadn't made much progress on the investigation, but he needed to spend some time with Sabrina and Thai takeout on his couch sounded like heaven right then. He didn't commit via text in case things went south, but he thought maybe he would surprise her as he locked up his house for the day.

_I'll be there, _she replied. _Promise to lock up tight when I get there. _

_That's my girl. _He included a winking emoji and slid behind the wheel of his police-issued SUV. He cranked up the vehicle and sent Sabrina one more text. _Headed to the station. I'll check in later. _

He pressed down the brake, hand on the gearshift, ready to shift into drive. His foot went all the way to the floor. He frowned and released the brake. He tried again. This time, it responded normally. He tried a couple of more times, the appropriate amount of pressure under his foot each time.

"Huh," he said. He chalked it up to a freak thing, made a mental note to have the mechanic down the street from the station look it over just in case, and put the SUV in drive. He meandered along, careful to abide by the speed limit of his subdivision. He saw Officer Kinkle's patrol car at Roz's house and couldn't refrain from rolling his eyes. It was just half past seven in the morning, but he already considered himself late. Kinkle, he knew, would roll into the office barely on time at nine on the nose.

At the intersection, he rolled to a complete stop. Again, he thought the brake pedal went down a little too easily, but another test revealed no issue. He decided to drop the SUV on his way to the station – better to have it look out now versus later.

He picked up speed on the two-lane highway, again mindful of the speed limit. The flashing warning lights that helped alert drivers to another four-way intersection in the typically fogging conditions flashed up ahead. At a safe distance away, he started to brake to prepare for the stop sign he knew was coming, even if he couldn't see it in the usual heavy fog, always a little heavier in that area, thanks to a creak that ran along the road.

The car kept going.

He pumped the brakes several times, trying to build up pressure.

Nothing.

He let out a curse.

A car horn sounded, but in the fog, he couldn't see which direction it was coming from. With no other option, he reached for the parking brake and said a prayer.

Sabrina burst through the doors of Greendale General Hospital, eyes searching for a familiar face.

"Agatha!" She rushed towards the girl. "Nick. Where is he?"

"He's down the hall…" she started. She didn't have a chance to finish. Sabrina was off, leaving the nurse staring after her.

* * *

She rushed down the emergency room hallway, glancing at the hastily scribbled names on the dry erase boards hanging on the outside of each room. It seemed like forever instead of less than sixty seconds before she found one labeled 'Scratch.' She practically fell through the door in her rush to get to him.

"Sabrina?"

"Nick!" She breathed a sigh of relief. "Are you okay?" She hurried to his side. "What happened?"

"I'm fine," he soothed. "No real damage."

"Are you sure?" She ran a hand through his hair, needing to touch him to assure herself he was okay. "Tell me the truth, Scratch."

"I'm fine," he said again. He caught her hand as it made another pass through his hair. "Really, Sabrina. I'm okay."

She took a hard look at him. He was propped up in a hospital bed, still in his standard work clothes, today a pair of black pants and a fitted navy Henley. He had pushed his suspenders off his shoulders and they fell to either side. His Greendale PD jacket was piled on top of his belt in a nearby chair. He was only wearing one boot, however. His other foot was propped up on a pillow and twice it's normal size.

"Nick! Your foot!"

"It's fine…"

"It's broken," Sabrina countered. "Don't try that 'fine' nonsense with me."

"They just did an x-ray," he told her. "I assume I'll find out something soon."

"Does it hurt?" she asked.

"It doesn't feel great," he admitted. "They gave me some pain killers. They're helping with the pain, but they're not getting me out of here any faster."

He didn't like being confined to a hospital bed, especially for something as inconvenient as a minor injury. He had a case to solve, a girlfriend to keep safe.

"I think you're just fine where you are." She perched on the edge of his bed, eyes full of concern. "Anything else sprained or possibly broken?"

"No," he promised. "Just the foot." He took her hand again. "How did you know I was here anyway?"

"Your prodigy, Officer Craig, called me," Sabrina informed him. "We'll discuss the fact that you tried to refuse to go to the hospital and insisted that no one call me when I'm sure you're telling me the truth about your injuries."

"It's just the foot," he promised again. "I didn't even hurt it in the crash. I got out of the car, didn't realize I was on an incline. Stepped down, rolled my foot, and now we're here. It wasn't my most graceful moment."

"What happened?" Sabrina asked. "All Craig told me was that you ran through a fence, hit a tree, and were on the way to the hospital. I'm going to have a chat with him about providing details such as 'alert and talking' when he makes calls like that. I had no idea if you were okay or not."

"My brakes failed," Nick answered. "I did everything I learned in defensive driving – pumped the brakes to try to regain pressure, pulled the emergency brake. I guided the car off the road as best I could to slow it down, but that involved a fence and a small tree – that I hit at a low rate of speed, so it sounds worse than it was. Thankfully, I missed the car that was at the intersection."

"You scared me, Scratch," Sabrina said. "You know I worry about you enough, given your job. Then you go and run through a fence…"

He saw the genuine worry in her. He squeezed her hand.

"I'm okay," he said yet again. "As for that part about not wanting you to know – this is why. I knew you'd worry. I planned to call you once the doctor read my x-rays and sent me on my way."

Sabrina shook her head.

"You call me, Nick. That's how this works. You get in a car accident, you call me. You burn your hand making dinner, you call me. You break your arm doing something dumb with Ambrose, you call me. Or you have someone call me, if you can't. You don't have to be the tough guy all the time."

"How about I table the tough guy act and ask for a kiss?" he proposed, trying to appease her, charm his way out of trouble. "I could use one… Take my mind off the pain…"

"I shouldn't," she shook her head. "Call it punishment for not calling me."

"Would you really be that mean to an injured officer of the law?" he asked.

"Oh, shut up," she grumbled. She leaned forward to kiss him. She pulled away just as someone rapped on the door. "Luke… Dr. Chalfant," she greeted.

"You can call me Luke, Sabrina," he said with a smile before turning his attention to Nick. "Detective Scratch, I've got good news and bad news."

"Let's hear it," Nick drawled, sitting back into his pillows. "You pick which comes first."

"I like to end on a high note, so let's go with the bad new first." He went to a computer near Nick's bed and turned it so Nick could see the monitor. He typed in a few pieces of information and an x-ray of Nick's foot filled the screen. "Unfortunately, you have a mid-shaft fracture of the fifth metatarsal." He pointed to a spot about midway down the outside of Nick's foot. "It's this outside bone where I'm pointing." He tapped the screen. "The good news is, you won't need surgery to repair it."

"Guessing I'll be getting some new footwear?" Nick asked.

"You will," Luke confirmed. "We'll give you an orthotic boot, which I want you to wear when walking for the next six weeks. You can take it off when sleeping or resting at home, otherwise, keep the boot on. We will give you a pair of crutches to help take some of the weight off of it. It will be pretty painful this first week or so, so you won't want to put too much pressure on it. We'll schedule a follow up at the six week mark to check progress and start weaning you out of the boot."

"How necessary are the crutches?" Nick asked.

"Necessary," Sabrina inserted, giving him a warning look. He glowered back.

"I'm going to agree with Sabrina on this one," Luke nodded. "I think you'll find them helpful, especially at first." Nick looked none too pleased. "In fact, use the crutches exclusively for the first 72 hours to give the swelling some time to go down, and then start trying to put a small amount of pressure on it. Walking normally will help speed up healing – but only after the swelling has gone down. Apply ice every couple of hours in fifteen minute increments for the several days, and try to keep it elevated as much as possible. We will also give you some exercises to help promote circulation and healing and send you home with an NSAID for pain."

"So you're saying I can't necessarily get in a foot race with a suspect, but I could still walk a beat if I needed to," Nick clarified.

"Definitely no running and I'd recommend sitting out walking a beat for at least a couple of weeks."

"We'll keep him at his desk," came Ambrose's voice. He walked into the room, surveying Nick. "Scratch, if you wanted a day off, all you had to do was ask."

"Note the lack of asking," Nick countered. He saw Sabrina roll her eyes. He looked at his doctor. "How long will it take to get my boot and get out of here?"

"It's quiet at the moment. We can get you out of here in an hour or so, if all goes well." He excused himself, leaving Nick with Ambrose and Sabrina.

"I heard everything Luke said," Sabrina informed him. "You're going to listen, Nicholas Scratch."

"I'll put some ice on it," he shrugged. "Craig back at the station?" he asked Ambrose.

"He's buried in case files," Ambrose confirmed.

"Don't worry about Craig," Sabrina interjected. "You've got a broken foot..."

With her eyes on Nick, she paid no mind to Ambrose standing behind her. He pointed at Sabrina and jerked his head towards the door. Nick understood. He had news and he didn't want Sabrina to hear.

"Can I get you to do something for me?" he asked her.

"Of course," Sabrina nodded. "What do you need?" He gave her an innocent sort of smile.

"Would you get me a cup of coffee? I haven't had any today. I'm starting to go into detox from the lack of caffeine."

"I can get you some coffee," she said, already standing. "Want something to eat?"

"Just coffee," Nick said. "I'll get something to eat when I get out of here. No need to eat hospital food unless necessary."

"I'll be right back," she promised.

"Want to get me a cup of coffee too?" Ambrose asked as she passed.

"Nope," she replied, not looking back at him. As soon as she was out of the room, Nick opened his mouth to ask Ambrose what was going on. Ambrose held up a finger indicating that he should wait. He edged towards the door and peered out. He watched Sabrina's white blonde hair disappear through a door at the end of the hall.

"Now that she's gone…" He walked back to the end of Nick's bed and crossed his arms. "That was masterful, by the way. That might be the first time I've ever seen her willing take instruction."

"I didn't instruct, I asked," Nick clarified. "Besides, she's anxious and a little touchy over the fact that I didn't want her called. I had to let her feel like she was doing something for me. And I could use a cup of coffee."

"You better hope they never outlaw caffeine, Scratch," Ambrose said. "But on to pressing matters, because she'll be back in minutes. You were right. Someone messed with your brakes."

"I knew it," Nick sighed. "It wasn't a clean cut, was it? I still had some brake pressure. If it was a clean cut, all the fluid would have bled out and I would have known before I ever put it in drive that I had no brakes."

"Correct on all accounts," Ambrose confirmed. "Someone punctured the break lines. You could have driven once or a hundred times before something happened."

"I drew once," Nick said wryly. "I was going to drop it off at the shop on my way in, have it looked at."

"We checked out your jeep – it's fine," Ambrose continued. "We're working to gather any surveillance footage from security systems your neighbors might have, but so far, we're drawing a blank. We did see the figure on your footage, though. We're going to try to enhance it, but I don't think we will be able to make an ID."

"You won't," Nick said with confidence. The first thing he had done while in the back of an ambulance in route to the hospital was review the security footage of his home via an app on his phone. All he had was a brief clip of someone clad in black and crouched low approaching his vehicle. "I'm certain it was the murderer. He wasn't trying to kill me, but he was warning me."

"Warning you?" Ambrose asked. "I'd say he was trying to kill you…"

"Dead detectives are a harder job to cover up," Nick said knowingly. "He's trying to send me a message – he knows I'm closing in and he's not standing for it."

"We don't even have a person of interest," Ambrose reminded him.

"He doesn't know that," Nick pointed out. "I'm more nervous about the fact that he's clearly been watching my house. I felt better about Sabrina being there alone. The mortuary is so much more secluded. I'm having second thoughts on that now."

"The reality is, she's not safe anywhere she goes," Ambrose said. "None of us are." The reality of Ambrose's words hung heavy between them. "We'll do what we can to improve your security footage and hope the neighbors got something. I've got Mann and Kinkle working on that part of it."

"Excellent," Nick muttered, not entirely thrilled Ambrose had put Kinkle on the case, but they were running low on resources. Sabrina's voice greeting someone she knew floated through the hall, effectively ending their discussion for the moment.

"You know she's not going to let you go into the station today, right?" Ambrose asked.

"I know," Nick sighed.

"Go home," Ambrose advised. "Take the day off. Let her fuss over you. Hell, milk it for all its worth. I'll check in with you later with any updates."

"I'll remote in and go through some research later," Nick amended. "But keep me updated. If anything at all comes up…"

"You'll be the first to know," Ambrose promised. Nick knew he meant it. "Might need to work out a code word, though. Sabrina isn't going to stand idly by when you're supposed to be resting." Nick chuckled at the truth of the statement.

"Coffee is here," she announced, breezing back into the room. She had a carrier with three cups. "Nick." She passed him his first. "Mine." She sat another on the counter near Nick's bed then held the container out to Ambrose. "Cousin's."

"You're so sweet," Ambrose crooned, taking the container before she changed her mind and dumped it on him.

"I took pity on you," Sabrina informed him. "The twins are cute, but they certainly don't sleep much."

"A very true statement," Ambrose agreed. "They do seem to be helping Zelda, though. And thanks to her, Prudence and I actually got some sleep last night."

"Glad someone did," Sabrina muttered. In an effort to help pull Zelda out of her deep depression, Ambrose and Prudence had started bringing the twins by and had even spent the night a few times. Zelda was a lot more herself as of late, her days full of helping care for the babies. Unfortunately, that meant she and Hilda were sleeping a lot less as well. "At least they're cute."

"Any update on Mrs. Blackwood?" Nick asked.

"Nothing noteworthy," Ambrose sighed. "She's still near catatonic, seemingly from both the shock of discovering Blackwood's body and all the stress of infant twins, a separation… Prudence has temporary custody of the twins with another hearing next month for a more long term solution."

"Damn," Nick muttered. It was a sad situation all around, but he desperately wanted to interview Constance Blackwood. She was the closet thing he had to a witness.

"Damn," Ambrose echoed. He checked the time. "I've got to get to court – traffic violation day, lucky me – stay off that foot, Scratch."

"I'll see what I can do," Nick quipped. "I'll check-in later."

"You're going home today, Nicholas Scratch," Sabrina informed him. Ambrose gave him a salute and let himself out. "The only stop we're making is at the mortuary so I can get Dublin. Otherwise, you're going to get comfortable on your couch."

"It's really not that bad, all things considered," Nick tried. In truth, his foot was throbbing, but he was doing a good job of hiding how much it hurt from Sabrina. He had a feeling it would be a different scene when he was fitted for a boot and allowed to stand.

"Give me one day," Sabrina bargained. "I know you're not going to sit idle, but can you at least work from your couch? For one day?"

"I'll give you one day," he agreed. He took her hand. "I was planning on surprising you tonight by picking up Thai from that place you like near Cee's and getting home in time for dinner. Maybe we can still do the Thai part?"

"We can still do the Thai part," Sabrina agreed. "I'd argue I'm getting the surprise, too – a whole day with you at my mercy."

"Lucky me," Nick teased with a smile.

"Hush, Scratch." She leaned in and kissed him again. "We'll make out on the couch all day. You can't say that's not better than a day at work."

"It is, in fact, better than a day at work," Nick agreed. He settled back against the bed and considered Sabrina. Try as he may, he couldn't quite stay away from the 'what if' path. "Sabrina?"

"Nick?" she countered. He still had her hand and gave it a squeeze.

"Know how I asked you to stay out of the woods, be a little smarter about being alone?" She nodded. "Can you add something to that for me?" She waited expectantly. "Don't walk Dublin at night anymore, okay? Not by yourself, not while this murderer is still on the loose. Just let her out in the backyard at my place, or stand on the porch at the mortuary."

Sabrina frowned.

"What's going on, Nick?" she asked. "Something else happened, didn't it?"

He shook his head, feeling guilty about lying to her.

"Just being overly cautious, that's all."

"I don't know that I believe that," Sabrina told him, reading between the lines.

"I just want to keep you safe," he said. "That's all." He sat up so he could cup her cheek. "You're my priority, Sabrina. It makes me uneasy to think of you strolling along the street at night, with or without Dublin. It's not safe – for anyone." _But especially you, _he added to himself. "Humor me on this. Please?"

He looked so concerned Sabrina couldn't deny him.

"Okay," she agreed. "I'll only walk Dublin in the daytime."

"Thank you." He kissed her, then let out a sigh. "Hell of a way to start the day, huh?" he asked, sitting back against the bed again. "A car accident, a broken foot…"

"A boyfriend who won't call his girlfriend when he has a car accident…"

Nick had the good sense to look apologetic.

"I didn't want to worry you," he said again. "I really would have called you, probably once I had a boot and was back at the station."

"You know I would have stormed down there and demanded you leave the office." Her hand rested on his thigh. It felt hot through his jeans, a sufficient distraction from his throbbing foot. "You would have refused, we would have argued, Ambrose probably would have gotten involved… It would have been a scene, so really, Craig did you a favor by calling me against your wishes."

"I'll owe him one," Nick quipped. He took a swig of his coffee and made a face.

"It's terrible," Sabrina confirmed. "Hospital coffee. Best I could do. We'll get you some real coffee as soon as you're out of here."

"Detective Scratch?" came Luke's voice. He entered the room, followed by Agatha. "Let's get you in a boot so you can get out of here."

"Can't wait," Nick said wryly. He was acutely aware of Sabrina moving her hand from his though. "I've got a date with my couch, good coffee, and Thai food waiting for me on the other side of this door."


	17. Chapter 17

Sabrina waltzed into Nick's office, intending to check in on him, and to see if he had any updates on the Scrabble Killer.

She stopped in her tracks.

Nick wasn't there and his office was clean. His desk was still messy, covered in pieces of paper, post-it notes and office supplies, but the evidence boards were wiped clean, the dry erase board removed entirely. She turned slowly, taking in the bare walls. Her curiosity skyrocketed. She left the office and hurried down the hall to Ambrose's. His was also empty, although it was still in its usual state of chaos.

She pivoted on her heel and marched out into the open office space shared by the officers. She looked around, hoping to find Nick or Ambrose, or perhaps Craig or Mann.

"Looking for Scratch?"

She turned to find Craig, standing by a printer with a file in his hand.

"Or Ambrose," she answered. "I'm not picky."

"They are in a meeting, should be done soon. You can hang around in Scratch's office to wait, or I can tell him you stopped by."

"I'll hang out in Nick's office," she said. "Thanks, Craig."

"You're welcome, Ms. Spellman."

Sabrina left him with a shake of her head. He insisted on referring to her as 'Ms. Spellman' and it drove her crazy. She was nearly to Nick's office when Harvey appeared.

"Sabrina, hey," he greeted.

"Officer Kinkle," she said in as neutral of a tone as she could. She was beginning to thaw towards him, but she still didn't enjoy crossing paths.

"Captain and Scratch are in a meeting," he told her, guessing why she was there. "They should be done soon."

"Craig already let me know," she informed him. "I'm going to wait for Nick in his office."

"He probably won't come back upstairs."

Sabrina's radar pinged.

"Why not?" she asked.

"He's moved all of his evidence boards and files on this Scrabble Killer case to the conference room in the basement. His office was getting a little crowded, with all the evidence piling up, Craig and Ambrose in there all the time, other people in and out. He's been hanging out down there for the last two days." Harvey gave her a friendly smile. "It's been a few days since we've seen you around here."

"There's been a lot going on," Sabrina said with a shrug. "I'll send Nick a text, let him I'm in his office."

She left Harvey without further explanation and disappeared into Nick's office. She sat down in his office chair, noting the stool he was supposed to be using to prop up his foot was nowhere to be found. For his sake, she hoped he had it with him in whatever meeting he was in. It had been three days since his accident, but he was proving to be just as difficult of a patient as she had expected him to be, refusing to sit still, only icing his foot when she insisted, passing on his painkillers,21 and trying to navigate without his crutches. She supposed she should just be glad the crutches weren't propped up in a corner.

She surveyed his desk. She had learned he was a little messy, but his office tended to be worse than his home. The surface was scattered with notes that made no sense to her, but she was sure made perfect sense to Nick. She smiled when she saw a note she had left him the week stuck to his monitor. She had stopped by with an afternoon pick-me-up, but he had been out interviewing someone about the Blackwood murder.

_Stopped by, left coffee and a cookie from the bakery. Don't tell Ambrose – I ate his. See you tonight? – Sabrina _

He had texted her within a half hour of her leaving, thanking her for the treat. She hadn't seen him that night though – he had worked late, but came to the mortuary for breakfast the next morning, even though it was out of his way.

She picked up a pen and found a stack of post-its.

_Elevate that foot and ice it, Scratch. Or else. – Sabrina _

She stuck it next to the existing note. To pass the time, she checked her phone and replied to a couple of emails. She sent Nick a text, letting him know she was in his office.

Another few minutes passed.

Bored, she decided to venture down to the basement. She had only been down there a few times, but it didn't feel much like a basement. The conference room was there, evidence storage, a break room. There was a holding cell, too, but it was empty as she passed.

The conference room door was closed, the blinds on the windows lining the hallway closed tight. It looks so much like a scene from one of the crime drama TV shows Nick scoffed at that she had to smile slightly. She tried the door. It was unlocked. The lights turned on as she entered. She knew she shouldn't be in there. She felt it in her gut that Nick wouldn't be happy if he found her. He had grown increasingly tight lipped about the investigation, and she was curious. She wouldn't report on anything, she told herself, but it wouldn't hurt to take a look around.

He had reconstructed his evidence boards on the broader space, but these were different. The ones in his office were cluttered, made no sense to her. These seemed to tell a story.

The Wardwells were there with their Scrabble tile. Cassius, Angela, Blackwood, all with their Scrabble tiles pinned by their photo. There were other details around each of them. Their date and approximate time of death, how they died. The photos of the tiles were printed out again, hung in a row.

"'E-W-R-D,'" she read. She moved closer to see the smaller piece of paper below it. "Edward Spellman."

She frowned. What did her father have to do with anything?

She continued browsing the wall, but nothing else made sense. It was all locations and coordinates, data and forensics she didn't follow. She turned her attention to a table neatly lined with files. Her frown deepened. It was research, all on cases her father had been involved in. Copies of his journals, print outs of his case files. She had no doubt that Nick had acquired those. He was the one with the Penn State connection.

But why?

The dry erase board on the other side of the room caught her eye. It was the one Nick removed from his office – the girls' names were still written in the corner – but her name was scrawled across it in his surprisingly elegant handwriting. Each of the victims' names was written below it. She realized he had connected each of them to her.

Mary Wardwell – Favorite teacher, high school principle

Adam Wardwell – Mary's husband, a former mentor

Cassius Jones – Librarian, helped with research

Angela Fields – Befriended after Lydia's death

Faustus Blackwood – Priest, former headmaster, aunt's lover

She backed away from the whiteboard as though it had lunged off the wall and bit her. She was their suspect, she thought. Her. That was the only reason her name would be there.

She bumped into a table. She steadied herself and turned wildly, searching for more, for answers. She had been with Nick when the Wardwells were murdered. It was the night she had invited him to the classic horror movie double feature and then they had gotten milkshakes. She was with him when Cassius was murdered, too. They had gone hiking the day after their first day, and he had stayed at the mortuary for dinner. When she found Cassius the next morning, he had been dead for at least twelve hours, Hilda had said. She was at Cassius' funeral when Angela died. In Riverdale when Blackwood was murdered. She had a solid albeit. But why…

Her eyes fell on the table she had just bumped into. It was a makeshift desk, she realized. She noted Nick's stool for his foot, her journalist brain taking in every detail. There was a notebook. She recognized it as the type Nick liked to use. She picked it up and started to flip through it, scanning the pages.

Horror grew at each flip of the page.

She wasn't a suspect, or even a person of interest.

She was the target.

The killer was copying one of her father's cases, according to his notes. The files of research were an attempt to tie the pieces together. Nick's request that she stay out of the woods, inside at night, be extra cognizant of her surroundings… All of it made sense.

The sound of Nick's crutches tapping down the hall echoed around her, but she made no move to leave the conference room.

She was the one the killer wanted.

But he was killing people she cared about first.

Just like her father's Scrabble Killer had done.

She couldn't breathe.

"Sabrina!"

Nick stood just inside the conference room, eyes wide as he realized what she held in her hand. He took a couple of crutched steps forward, but both the tears and fire in her eyes made him stop. Ambrose stood just behind him, his expression as surprised as Nick's.

"Sabrina, you can't be here," Ambrose tried, finding his voice first.

"He wants me," she said in a shaky voice. "The killer. He wants me."

"Let us explain," Nick started. Sabrina shook her head.

"He wants me," she said again. "He's killing people I care about to get to me."

There was no use in denying it anymore.

"That's our theory," Nick confirmed carefully. "But no one is going to hurt you, Sabrina. I won't let them."

"We're doing everything we can to keep you safe," Ambrose said. "We will step up patrol around the mortuary…"

"I can bring in additional resources," Nick added, taking a few more crutch swings towards her. "We will have you under surveillance around the clock…"

Sabrina looked at them as though they had sprouted second heads.

"No," she shook her head, tears falling. "No. I don't want more protection or added surveillance or bodyguards or whatever the hell you two are talking about. I want whoever this is to stop killing my friends."

"We all want that," Ambrose tried.

"We're doing everything we can…" Nick said at the same time.

"Stop!" She was rapidly losing her grasp on any reasonable train of thought as the severity of the situation crashed down around her. She zeroed in on Nick. "You lied to me. You kept this from me."

"To keep you safe," Nick said. "We couldn't let you know…"

"You couldn't let me know that my life is in danger?" she cut him off. "You couldn't tell me that the reason these people," she pointed at his evidence board of victim photos, "are dead because of me?"

"They're not dead because of you," Ambrose said, approaching her. "Don't blame yourself, Sabrina. They are dead because there is someone in this community that is intent on doing terrible things…"

"They're dead because of me!" She looked from Nick to Ambrose and back again. "Don't try to tell me differently. Don't try to tell me whoever is doing this isn't killing people because he wants me. All the Wardwells, Cassius, Angela, and Father Blackwood did was know me – that's it. Now they're dead."

"Sabrina, you're panicking." Nick took a couple more steps towards her, his concern growing. "You're going to be fine…"

"I'm not worried about me!" she erupted. "Maybe you are. Maybe you and Ambrose are have some seriously clouded judgment about this case because of me. But I'm worried about everyone I care about." She wiped violently at her eyes. "And you lied to me, Nick. You should have told me…."

"He couldn't tell you," Ambrose supplied. He, too, took a few steps closer. Sabrina stepped back, feeling like a caged animal as they approached, her thoughts wild and erratic. "We know you, Sabrina. If you knew, you would do something drastic…"

"Like what?" she demanded, rounding on Ambrose. "Try to find this person myself? Leave Greendale so he can't get me?"

"All the above and who knows what else," Ambrose replied, standing his ground. "We're doing everything we can…"

"Stop focusing on me!" she shrieked. Nick was close enough now to reach for her. She smacked his hand away. "Don't touch me!"

"Sabrina…"

"You both lied to me," she said again. "You have kept me in the dark, and have willingly let me walk around Greendale a little worried about myself, but more worried about the people I care about, with no idea that all of this is happening because of me. Because I happen to be the daughter of Edward Spellman."

Another thought occurred to her. It was irrational, but nothing made sense in the moment. She looked at Nick.

"Did you know this was going to happen?"

He frowned.

"What?"

"Did you know this was going to happen?" she asked again. "You showed up here and within a month, people start dying," she pointed out. "You know my father's work better than anyone. Did you have some sort of clue? Some sort of intercepted internet chat or something that told you a serial killer was going to strike Greendale?"

"Sabrina, you aren't making sense," Ambrose tried.

"Shut up, Ambrose," she snapped, eyes still on Nick. He returned her gaze solemnly, waiting for what came next. "Are you here as some undercover operative?" she pressed. "Is that what this is? You get a tip, get yourself transferred here as an undercover operative… Is this your chance to make a name for yourself? The guy who catches this Scrabble Killer copycat?"

"Sabrina, no," Nick shook his head. "Sit down, okay? We can talk this through. I will tell you everything…"

"Is that why you got close to me?" she ignored him. "To be as far on the inside as you possible could be? Who better to lure in the killer than the daughter after Edward Spellman, the very person he's after?"

"Absolutely not," Nick shook his head again, confused she could think such a thing. "I came here because I needed a change . The fact that I fell in love with you…."

She continued to ignore him.

"You don't just up and leave a job like the NYPD," she pressed. "You've been hiding your backstory from me the whole time." She tilted her head a little, studying him. "What's the real story behind Amalia?" she demanded. "What actually happened to her, Nick?"

"Sabrina, don't go there," Ambrose warned, watching helplessly as Nick crumbled a little more with each sentence Sabrina flung at him. "Please, sit down. We will talk through all of this. We will tell you everything we know."

"Don't you take his side, Ambrose," Sabrina snapped. "And stop talking. I'll deal with you in a minute. What's the truth, Nick? Why are you really in Greendale? What happened in to Amalia?"

"She died." He nearly choked on the words. "It was my fault."

There was a moment of stunned silence before Sabrina narrowed her eyes.

"I don't believe you."

"Sabrina…" He was desperate. "Please. Sit down, okay? I will tell you everything – about the case, Amalia, New York, everything…"

"No."

"Sabrina, now is not the time for you assert your independence," Ambrose tried. "Let us talk to you. We can stay here or we can go somewhere else. Just let us explain…"

She realized something else then.

"You know whatever he's hiding." She pointed at Nick, but her eyes were on Ambrose. "Have you known all along?"

"It's not what you're thinking…" he started.

Sabrina shook her head.

"I'm done," she announced. "I'm not standing here and letting the two of you – two of the people I have worried about and feared losing the most during all of this – continue to lie to me." She was near tears. "I'm done." She looked at Nick and poured all the venom she could into her next sentence. "We are done."

Nick's face fell. Ambrose cursed.

"Sabrina, cousin, please…" he was begging now.

She wasn't listening.

She hiked her bag onto her shoulder.

"Do whatever the hell you want with this investigation," she told them. "But no one else is dying because of me."

She made for the door. Nick tried to grab her as she passed, but she smacked his arm away and didn't look back. He started after her, but his crutches slowed him down.

"Damn it!" He threw them to the floor and tried to go after her. Excruciating pain shot through his foot, crippling him to his spot. "Sabrina!"

"Let her go," Ambrose advised, taking his phone off his belt.

"Let her go?" Nick repeated. "Ambrose, she's irrational right now. Who knows what she might do…"

"It will only get worse if you go after her," he said knowingly. "Give her some time." He dialed someone on his phone. "Craig? Did Sabrina just come upstairs?" He waited for the officer's confirmation. "I need you to follow her, make sure she gets home. Keep a low profile – do everything you can not to be seen by her. Keep surveillance on her until you hear otherwise from myself or Scratch. Stay quiet about your assignment." He waited. He glanced at Nick. "She knows," he confirmed. "Let us know she made it home."

He hung up and turned his attention to his detective. Nick was leaning on a table, head hung low, trying to hold himself together.

"Craig is going to keep an eye on her," he said carefully. "You and I are going to give her a little time to calm down, then we will go talk to her."

"She doesn't want to see me, Ambrose." Nick shook his head and wiped at his eyes, trying and failing to understand how everything had gone so wrong. "She's not entirely wrong. I have been lying to her. Maybe lies by omission, but lies all the same." He smacked the table in frustration. "Fuck!"

"We will figure it out," Ambrose tried. "Sabrina – when she gets mad or upset about something out of her control, this is what she does. She lashes out, panics. She needs some space to cool off and process all of this. We can go to the mortuary later today, try to talk to her."

Nick just shook his head. He was torn between chasing after Sabrina and throwing himself still deeper into solving the case. He took a step forward with his broken foot, not sure of where he was going, but desperate to do something. He hissed as a sharp pain shot through it.

"Here, let me get…" Ambrose made to pick up his crutches for him.

"I've got it," Nick said, holding out his hand. He hopped on his good foot to where he had dropped his crutches. "I'll be in my office if you need me."

"Nick…"

"Just – give me a few minutes?" he asked Ambrose. "Please?"

Ambrose sighed. He felt awful for the detective side of Nick – a case he couldn't find a break in, people dying, a girl's life at risk. He felt even worse for his friend, however. Sabrina had unknowingly thrown everything she could at Nick to devastate him. And she may have missed it, but he hadn't – he had heard Nick's confession of love.

"Take your time, Scratch" he said. "I'll let you know when Craig confirms Sabrina is home."

Nick left the room and crutched slowly down the hall, his heart heavy. He struggled to climb the stairs, brushed off an officer that asked him a question. He felt the eyes on him. He knew they knew something had happened with Sabrina. She would have had to pass through the whole station to leave and he imagined she hadn't been quiet about it.

He shut the door to his office and didn't bother with turning on the lights. He hobbled to his desk chair and collapsed onto it. He rested his elbows on the desk and dropped his head to his hands.

He felt utterly defeated.

He had five murder victims and no leads. He was a good detective, he knew that. But this case – the one case he wanted to solve more than he had ever wanted to solve a case – seemed to be one dead end after another. Every time he thought he had something, he was foiled.

He was running out of time. In a perfect world, he would solve everything before there was another murder. But he knew, given his current lack of progress zeroing in on a suspect, someone else would likely lose their life. It was what statistics told him. It was what Edward Spellman's own Scrabble Killer case indicated. If the killer continued their copycat ways, there were still two Scrabble tiles to be left. Sabrina was likely the third murder he was plotting.

He closed his eyes to breath through the panic settling over him. It shook him to his core that Sabrina was in danger. She was innocent. She had been right when she said the only thing she was guilty of was being friends with the murder victims – and Edward Spellman's daughter.

Worst of all, she thought he was a liar. He had lied by omission, but only to protect her. He would have told her the whole truth, eventually, about everything. He still would, if she would hear him out. But she was furious, and he had seen it in her eyes when she told him to it was over that she meant it.

He sat back in his chair, trying to focus his thoughts. They were spinning everywhere. The case. Sabrina. His deadend suspect list. Sabrina. The research they still needed to do. Sabrina. On and on it went, always coming back to Sabrina.

"Focus, Scratch," he reprimanded himself.

His eyes fell on the new note Sabrina had left him before it all fell apart.

_Elevate that foot and ice it, Scratch. Or else. – Sabrina _

He exhaled sharply.

He loved her.

He was certain of that.

He would do everything in his power to get her back.

But his priority had to be keeping her alive.

Everything else would work itself out.

With a heavy sigh, he stood and grabbed for his crutches.

"Where are you going, Scratch?" Ambrose called from his office. Nick heard the suspicion in his voice.

"To get some ice," he answered honestly. "And then I'm going downstairs and I'm not coming out of that conference room until I find the son of bitch that is doing this." He took a breath. "He's not getting Sabrina. I won't lose her."


	18. Chapter 18

His anxiety was at an all-time high as he crutched through the Spellman's front door behind Ambrose. He was determined, but he had no way of knowing how this roll of the dice would play out.

"You ready for this?" Ambrose asked.

"No," Nick admitted. "But it has to be done." He glanced up the staircase with trepidation. Sabrina was up there, and he was going to fight for her, both as a detective and as a man who loved her. He started towards the stairs, Ambrose with him.

"Not so fast you two."

Zelda appeared from the kitchen, hands on her hips, a determined look on her face.

"Auntie Z, we need to speak with Sabrina," Ambrose told her.

"We're under strict instruction to not allow the two of you up there," Hilda chimed in, appearing behind Zelda. She pointed at Nick. "Especially you."

"Hilda, Zelda, with all due respect…" Nick started.

"I said we're not supposed to allow you upstairs," Hilda interjected, "not that we weren't going to allow you upstairs. I think she deserves quite the explanation."

"As do we," Zelda added. "That's our niece up there and it seems she's been lied to and may be the target of a serial killer trying to avenge one of her father's cases. She's not the only one with questions."

Ambrose and Nick looked at each other.

"I'll take the aunts, you take Sabrina?" he proposed. Nick nodded, preferring to speak with Sabrina alone anyway, and started towards the stairs without a word, moving slowly on his crutches.

"Godspeed, Nicholas," Hilda said. "You're going to need it."

He moved his crutches into one hand and with some effort, managed to navigate the stairs. His foot was still screaming at him, and the ibuprofen he had popped wasn't working, but he couldn't stop for his prescribed painkillers. He had too much to do, and they made him loopy, tired. He had to hold onto his senses, his focus. There was too much at stake.

He was surprised to find Dublin lying outside of Sabrina's door. She stood when she saw him.

"Hey, girl," he said quietly. He managed to stoop down to her level. "Bet you're wondering what's going on, huh?" She whined and lifted her paw to scratch at Sabrina's door. He smiled sadly. The dog loved Sabrina almost as much as he did. "I'm going to do my best to get her to talk to us again."

With a deep breath, he stood and knocked on Sabrina's door.

"Sabrina? It's me." Silence. He knocked again. "Sabrina? Please. Open the door." More silence. He senses were sharp, though, and he heard her bed squeak as she moved around on it. "Sabrina, I know you're in there. We need to talk. Please, let me in."

"You're not welcomed here, Detective Scratch," she said from her side of the door.

He opened his mouth to reply, but thought better of it. He rested his crutches against the wall and ever so slowly made his way to the hall bathroom. It was intended for guests and well-appointed with a selection of basic toiletries and supplies. He found two bobby pins and hobbled his way back to her bedroom door. He bent them both into ninety-degree angles and went to work. Within two minutes, he popped the lock and opened the door.

Sabrina sat staring at him, surprised by his appearance. She had heard him trying to pick the lock, but thought there was no way he would get the old hardware to give. Dublin trotted past him and made for Sabrina's bed. She didn't jump on it, but she sat as close as she could, eyes begging for attention.

"You don't spend as much time as I have with criminals and not pick up a trick or two," he said, holding up the bobby pins.

"I told you, Scratch. You're not welcomed here. You might be the law, but I can still have you arrested for trespassing."

"We need to talk," he said, ignoring her jab. He had come braced for a fight, and she, it seemed, was ready to give him one.

"I have nothing to say to you," she informed him. "You can leave. And you should take Dublin with you." Her eyes filled with tears that she blinked away almost as fast as they appeared. "She's your dog, after all."

"I have plenty to say," he told her, standing his ground. "You need to know the whole truth."

"I know is that people are dying because of me."

"Someone out there has set their sights on you," Nick confirmed. "We can't be one hundred percent sure. You never can be. But everything we do know points to the fact that someone is targeting you to avenge someone your father put away. His M.O. lines up with the original Scrabble Killer, a man named Jerry Commingle, that your father arrested. Commingle murdered six people and left a Scrabble tile at each scene, spelling out the name 'Julius.' His last murder – his seventh – was Katherine Von Krep, daughter of Julius Von Krep, the detective that put Commingle's father behind bars for a brutal rape and murder. The man received the death penalty.

"We're researching everything we can think of – we're looking into Commingle's family tree, but also other crimes your father worked. You know as well as I do that Spellman worked a substantial number of cases. It's taking us some time." He paused to take a deep breath. "Whoever is doing this is doing a neat job of it. We don't have a suspect or even a person of interest. The only things we know for sure is that he leaves a Scrabble piece at each scene, those pieces appear to be spelling out 'Edward,' and his victims all have ties to you."

"None of that changes the fact that you lied to me," Sabrina said, trying and failing to process everything Nick had just told her. "You kept the fact that someone wants to murder me away from me, Nicholas."

"To protect you," he said. "If we had told you, who knows what you would have done…"

"Try to find this person myself?" Sabrina supplied. "Leave Greendale so the people I care about would be safe? Turn myself over to whoever it is so he can just end this already? Trust me, Nicholas, I'm considering all of my options."

He dared to take a few steps closer to her.

"Please, don't do anything rash," he nearly begged. "Just talk to Ambrose and I. Work with us to figure out what to do next. I need to keep you safe…"

"Why do you keep saying that?" Sabrina interrupted. "Why is that the only consistent thing that comes out of your mouth? 'I need to keep you safe.' I don't need you to keep me safe, Scratch."

A heavy silence passed between them. Nick took another steadying deep breath.

"You weren't wrong when you said Ambrose and I had clouded judgment," he admitted. "We love you, Sabrina." He gazed at her, putting his heart entirely on the line. "I love you. It scares me to my very core that something could happen to you. So maybe my judgment has been clouded. Maybe I have put you first since I figured out you're the target. But Sabrina, off the record and at the risk of upsetting you even more? I don't care about everyone else. I only care about you. I already told you – if it is down to your life of mine, I'm going to choose yours every time."

"You can't prioritize me over a whole community," she informed him. "You can't sacrifice others in the name of saving me."

"I'm trying to find this guy." There was no hiding the note of panic in his voice. "I'm doing everything I can, Sabrina. You should know that."

"I don't know what to believe anymore!" she erupted. "One minute, I'm a little afraid, a little worried, but I still feel pretty safe walking around the town I've lived in most of my life. The next minute, I find out my boyfriend and my cousin have been lying to me for weeks and that I'm the target of a serial killer – someone who, from what I understand, plans to kill at least two more people before he gets to me. Who will those people be, Nick? You? Ambrose? My aunts? My friends? Who else is going to die because of me?"

She was near frantic now. Nick took the chance to limp to her side. Dublin whined and nudged at Sabrina's hand. Sabrina absentmindedly rubbed the dog between its ears, her eyes filling with tears. Nick perched gingerly next to her, taking it as a good sign that she let him get that close.

"Sabrina, I know it's a lot to take in," he started. "But please, don't push me away. Let me…"

"Did you know?" she interrupted.

Nick sighed. It was irrational, but he could understand how her mind, quick and efficient, had thought he might have had some sort of tip that murder was coming to Greendale, given his connections and skills as an investigator.

"No, Sabrina, I had no idea this was going to happen," he told her. "That's the truth. I needed to get out of New York, and this was the first opportunity that came up. I took it. The fact that these murders started within my first month is just an awful coincidence. I swear."

"It's hard for me to believe that…"

"Why?" Nick challenged. "I may have lied by omission, but everything I've kept from you has been to protect you."

"Stop saying 'protect me,'" she snapped. "I'm tired of hearing it." She eyed him. "You lied about the case. You're lying about Amalia. I don't know what to believe out of you, Nick. I don't know what to believe about us."

"I didn't tell you the whole truth about the case," Nick agreed. He played with his fingers, his mind going places he didn't like to go. "I haven't told you the whole truth about Amalia, either. She's hard to talk about, Sabrina." He rubbed a hand over his face. "I've had a hard year," he confessed. "Just when I thought it was getting better, all of this started happening. I feel like I'm failing. As a detective, with you…" He shook his head. "This isn't about me though. This is about you. We need to find a way to keep you safe."

A long silence passed between them. He didn't dare reach out for her, no matter how badly his body was screaming for contact. He wanted to hold her, comfort her, take away the fear, the worry, the hurt. But there was nothing he could do for her until she decided to let him be there.

"You should go," she finally said. "I'm sure you've got plenty of work to do."

"Sabrina," he sighed. "Please…"

"Leave, Nick. Go home. Go back to the station. Go back to New York, if you have to. Stop worrying about me. I'll figure it out."

"You're not going to figure it out," he pushed. "Not alone, not safely. Let me help…"

"I don't care about what's safe and what's not," she informed him. "I'm serious, Nick. It's time for you to leave." She looked at Dublin. She was still rubbing the dog's head. Dublin rested her head in her lap, as though sensing she needed comforting. "Take Dublin with you. She's yours, after all."

"Sabrina…"

"Go, Nick. Please. Let me have some time to process all of this out."

He had no choice in the matter.

"Let Dublin stay," he tried. Sabrina shook her head, fighting off tears. "Sabrina…"

"She's your dog," she said again. "Please, Nick. Just go."

Slowly, he stood, wincing when he put some weight on his foot. He saw the briefest flash of concern cross Sabrina's face. It lit the smallest spark of hope that she still cared about him. He took a chance and cupped her cheek in his hand. She avoided eye contact, but he thought, maybe, she leaned into his touch just a bit. His thumb grazed her cheek.

"I love you," he said. "And I'm going to protect you."

She said nothing, but closed her eyes, a tear escaping and rolling down her cheek. He pressed a kiss to her hair and used every ounce of strength he had to walk away from her, Dublin begrudgingly trailing behind him.

He found Ambrose, Hilda, and Zelda in the kitchen, all with cups of tea and wearing similar worried looks.

"How did it go?" Ambrose asked. They only had to look at Nick to know the answer.

"I'm not playing by her rules," he informed them. "I want 24 hour surveillance on her. I don't give a damn if she knows she's being followed. We're going to keep her safe."

"That's my niece, Scratch," Zelda informed him. "I don't plan to lose her."

"You won't," Nick promised. "I'm going to catch this bastard. Or die trying."

She stared at her ceiling.

She wanted to cry again, but her eyes were dry. Red and puffy. She had cried out everything she had. She hadn't slept at all, hadn't eaten, had turned her phone off to avoid the outside world. She had watched the sun go down and it was on it's way back into the sky again.

Her thoughts were a blur that didn't make sense. Her heart hurt. Her head hurt. Even her body hurt. She was afraid and reckless. Heartbroken and determined. She was in danger, but she somehow was still more worried about the people she loved. Ambrose. Her aunts. Theo. Cee. Even Prudence. Roz. Harvey.

Nick.

The familiar sound of dog tags jingling met her ears. Salem hissed and leapt from the bed. She sighed and tossed back her blankets as Salem jumped to the safety of her wardrobe, wondering why Nick was there so early – or if he had ever gone home at all. She wouldn't put it past him to sleep on the couch in an effort to protect her or else try to talk to her again in the morning. She padded to her door, not sure if she was going to yell at Nick or fall into his arms.

Dublin was there, but he wasn't.

"Hi, girl," she greeted softly. She could hear Nick and Ambrose's soft voices downstairs, mingling with her aunts. She took a big breath and descended the stairs, aware that she looked terrible, not caring that she was a wreck. She needed to face them. All of them.

Everyone fell silent when she walked into the room.

The air was tense. Nick and Ambrose looked like she felt. They both looked grave, Ambrose even looked ill. She felt Dublin press into her side.

"What happened?" she demanded, reading the room. "There was another murder, wasn't there?"

She watched Nick's chest rise and fall as he took a deep breath. He took a couple of limping steps forward.

"Sabrina," he started in a careful tone, scared of what would come next, "Tommy Kinkle was murdered last night."

She gasped.

"What? No… Harvey's brother…"

"There's more," Ambrose said wearily. "We think Harvey was the intended victim."

Nick barely made it to her in time to catch her when she collapsed.


	19. Chapter 19

Sabrina raised her fist and knocked.

It was weird to knock on the Kinkles' door. Once upon a time, just months ago, she would have waltzed right in. It only occurred to her just then that it was maybe a little odd that Harvey still technically lived at home at age 28, even though it was her understanding that he spent most of his time at Roz's these days.

She listened to the footsteps on the other side of the door. A moment later, it swung open, revealing Roz Walker.

"'Brina," she breathed, her eyes widening in surprise.

Sabrina's own eyes filled with tears.

"Roz."

They stepped forward at the same time and wrapped each other in a tight hug, the past forgotten, at least for the moment.

"How is he?" Sabrina asked as she pulled away.

"Devastated," Roz answered with a sad shake of her head. "I've never seen him like this, Sabrina. It's not good."

"Should I be here?" Sabrina asked carefully. "I know I'm not family, and Harvey and I… I don't want to impose or make things even harder, I just couldn't think of anything else to do…"

"Of course you should be here." Roz squeezed her hand. "Theo is here, too. Come on. They are in the living room."

The two friends kept their hands interlocked. Harvey was sitting on the couch, knees resting on his elbows, hands clasped, head bowed. Theo sat nearby, watching him with sad eyes. Harvey looked up when he heard footsteps.

"'Brina." He stood, but didn't move towards her.

"Harvey," Sabrina replied. "I'm so sorry…"

She had to work to maintain her composure as guilt worked to overtake her. It was her fault Tommy was dead, her fault Harvey was hurting. It took everything she had not to fall apart right there. She had to be strong – it was the only thing she could do. She watched Harvey's eyes fill with tears he tried to hold back. Acting on instinct, she crossed the room to him and tentatively wrapped him in a hug. He returned it, letting a few tears escape.

"Thank you for coming," he whispered. "God, Sabrina, I can't… He's gone…"

"I know," she soothed, squeezing back her own tears. "I'm so sorry, Harvey. I'm so very sorry."

She was apologizing for more than just the lost of his brother. She was apologizing for it being her fault. She wondered what Harvey knew, if anything, about the Scrabble Killer. He wasn't all that involved in the investigation, from what she knew, and she had a feeling Nick hadn't exactly spread the news that she was the killer's target around the station.

There was another knock on the door.

"I'll get it," Theo said, needing to feel useful.

"I'm glad you came, Sabrina." Harvey still hugged her to him. "Thank you for being here."

"Of course." She hugged him back even harder, not registering the voices at the door. "I wouldn't be anywhere else. I'm here, for whatever you or your dad need. Anything at all, just name it…"

"Harvey?" Harvey loosened his grip on Sabrina, but kept his arms around her at the sound of Theo's voice. "Detective Scratch is here. He asked to see you."

Sabrina turned, breaking Harvey's embrace. To everyone else, Nick looked like the calm, cool, collected detective he was supposed to be. But she saw the wave of jealousy he was trying to hide at finding her in Harvey's arms, even if she knew he understood why she was there. She also saw the weariness in his body. It was evident in the way he leaned heavily on his crutches. She wondered when the last time he'd slept was.

"I know this isn't a great time, but I need to ask you and your father a few more questions, if you're up for it," Nick said to Harvey. "I've got a few officers outside doing another sweep of the property, now that its light out."

"I'm not sure if my dad will be up for more questioning right now, but I'll talk to him," Harvey answered. "You can talk to me at any rate. Let's go to the kitchen."

Harvey left the room. Nick gave Sabrina a long look full of emotion before he swung his crutches after Harvey.

"Is… everything okay between you and Detective Scratch?" Theo asked, ever perceptive. "That look he just gave you was – intense."

"He's working," Sabrina said, going with the easiest answer she could. "He's in investigation mode right now. I'll talk to him later."

"Sit down," Roz suggested. "I'll – make us some tea, or something. That feels like the right thing to do."

"I'm okay," Sabrina said, sensing that Roz was anxious about not only her presence, but the entire situation. "Sit down with us, Roz. It's been so long since we've all been together, despite the circumstances that brought us here."

"That's true," Theo agreed, taking up his seat in a nearby armchair again. "Let's just – sit. Talk."

Roz joined Sabrina on the couch. An awkward silence fell over them. It was odd, for things to be so weird between them. They were once the best of friends, all four of them joined at the hip, Harvey and Sabrina holding hands, Roz and Theo flanking them. Now, Roz was with Harvey and Sabrina was the ex-girlfriend they all assumed had moved on to one Detective Scratch. Theo was building his career in mental health counseling, most of his time dedicated to his patients and causes he was passionate about. The days of cheering Harvey and Theo on at their basketball game and gathering around a table of milkshakes and fries at Dr. Cerberus afterward were well behind them. Even before Sabrina and Harvey broke up, their time spent together had become minimal.

"How is Nick's foot?" Theo asked, searching for absolutely anything to fill the uncomfortable silence.

"It would heal faster if he would stay off of it," Sabrina heard herself say. It was easiest to pretend everything was okay between them. "I think it bothers him more than he lets on, but he is so focused on this case…" she trailed off to keep herself from saying something she shouldn't.

"Remember when I broke my ankle?" Roz asked. "We were in middle school…"

Sabrina half listened as Roz and Theo reminisced over the time Roz broke her ankle trying out for the cheerleading squad. Her thoughts were in the kitchen, wondering what Nick was asking, what clues he might glean from this murder. She thought, too, of how it had been him she opened her eyes to after fainting from the shock of Tommy's death. He was sitting on the kitchen floor, her body cradled against his, concern etched all over his weary face. After a few disoriented moments, she had come to her senses and lashed out all over again. Nick and Ambrose had left soon after, both of them barely capable of putting one foot in front of the other, but hours to go before they could sleep.

"What did you tell Mrs. Wardwell, Sabrina?" Theo asked, drawing Sabrina out of her thoughts. "To get us out of trouble after we got caught sneaking into the boys' locker room to put itching powder in Billy Marlin's basketball uniform?"

"Oh, um, I forget…"

They continued to reminisce, Sabrina trying to stay focused and not let her thoughts drift to the killer, to Nick, to her own marked life. Theo offered to go get them a late lunch eventually, leaving her with Roz. Harvey and his father were still talking to Nick – they were outside now, walking the property, from what she could see out the living room window, Nick without his crutches hobbling along slowly, Mr. Kinkle's head hung low, Harvey pointing out things and casting worried looks at his father.

"Sabrina," Roz started, pulling her attention away from the window, "I know things have been – not great – between us…"

"None of that," Sabrina shook her head. "None of it matters now. What matters is Harvey and Mr. Kinkle, helping them through this however we can."

"I'm sorry, Sabrina," Roz said anyway. "I'm so so so sorry. I knew it was wrong, but I was in the moment and I…" She took a big breath. "I love Harvey," she confessed. "I have for a long time, but I tried to deny it because he was yours. I know I was horrible friend to you, but I miss you. I miss you so very much. I know we will never go back to how we were, but I want to be your friend again."

Sabrina's eyes watered.

"I've missed you, too," she admitted. "I was thinking I might text you soon, reply to your happy birthday text, finally, but with everything going on…"

"You've been busy," Roz nodded. "I'm surprised you're not reporting on this…"

"I passed this one off to Hunter. We've been tag teaming anyway, and he was a little annoyed that I got the scoop on the Scrabble pieces from Nick and Ambrose. I owed him one." She sighed sadly. "Besides, I'm too close to this. I'm in no shape to report on it."

Roz had no idea how true that statement was.

"Friends again?" Roz asked hopefuly.

"Friends again," Sabrina confirmed. She reached for a hug. They held one another for a long time, relishing in being together again, despite how their friendship had changed.

"You and Nick seem happy," Roz ventured when they finally separated. "I mean, just from what I see around town and your social media posts."

"Nick is – a good guy," Sabrina said carefully. She had too many mixed feelings about Nick to sort them out right then. Roz still knew her friend well, despite their months of not speaking.

"You sure you're telling me the truth, 'Brina?" Sabrina blew out a breath. She was caught and not entirely unhappy about it. It was good, having a girlfriend to talk to again.

"We had a fight," she shared, again choosing her words carefully. "He did some things, I said some things…" She picked at a button on the threadbare couch. "I don't really know where things stand with us right now."

"Whatever it was, I hope you work it out," Roz offered. "He seems like he really cares about you."

"He told me he loves me," Sabrina confided.

"What did you say?"

"I didn't say it back." She bit her lip for a moment. "I do love him, but there are – other things. It's complicated." She decided to change the subject. "How are your parents?"

Another half hour passed before Harvey, Mr. Kinkle, and Nick returned.

"Let us know if we can help your investigation in anyway," Mr. Kinkle told Nick.

"You have my card," Nick said, shaking the man's hand. "Call if you think of anything else, no matter how trivial it might seem. Day or night, the time doesn't matter. I promise you, we're doing everything we can to solve this case."

"I believe that," Mr. Kinkle nodded. Harvey was stoic at his side.

"I really am sorry, Mr. Kinkle, Harvey," Nick continued. Sabrina noted that Nick called Harvey by his first name. He had never done that, to her knowledge. "Officer Kingkle, take all the time you need. The station will be there when you're ready to come back."

"Thank you, Detective Scratch," Harvey said in a neutral tone. "Dad? It's pretty cold out there. Let's get some coffee, warm up…" He steered his father towards the kitchen. Nick shifted his focus to Sabrina.

"Sabrina?" he asked. "Can I talk to you for a minute?"

"I'm talking to Roz," she replied as evenly as she could.

"I'm actually going to go check on Harvey," Roz said quickly. "I'll be back in a few minutes, Sabrina."

Sabrina glared at her, reconsidering their new friendship. Nick approached slowly, both because of his foot and because he wasn't sure how Sabrina would receive him. He perched on the arm of the couch to alleviate some of the weight from his throbbing foot while still giving Sabrina space.

"I talked to Ambrose," he said quietly. "It's up to you, how much you want to tell Kinkle about what's going on. He hasn't been involved with the investigation save for some minor evidence collection and finding Angela's body. All he knows is what most people know – that there is a serial killer using Scrabble tiles as calling cards."

"How generous of you and Ambrose to let me make a decision for myself," she said.

Nick sighed and massaged his temple. His foot was throbbing, he had a headache to beat any headache he had ever had, he was approaching two full days without sleep, couldn't quite recall the last time he'd eaten, and he had one more murder on his hands, but the woman in front of him was his only concern.

"How are you?" he asked, pressing for more. "Did you sleep before you came over? Eat something?"

"Are you really going to lecture me about sleeping and eating right now?" Sabrina asked. "You have six murders to solve. Don't worry about me."

He had to take a steadying breath to maintain control of his emotions. He couldn't be sure what would burst out of him if he let go.

"You fainted this morning," he reminded her. "From shock, but I'd guess you didn't sleep last night, probably haven't eaten either…"

"Nick, I don't want to do this," Sabrina shook her head. "I'm here for Harvey. Seeing as it's my fault his brother is dead, I feel like I need to do what I can to help."

"I want you to take care of yourself…"

"Why?" she interrupted. "I'll be dead soon enough, if all goes according to plan."

That was enough for Nick.

He moved quickly, grabbing her by the wrist. He held her firmly, not so tight he hurt her, but enough to let her know he was serious.

"Don't you dare say stuff like that." His eyes flashed with a sort of anger Sabrina didn't think he was capable of. "I don't want you thinking like that. I know you're upset. Mad. Scared. Confused. I know you hate me right now, and you're not all that fond of Ambrose. But I'll be damned if I let anything happen to you." He let go of her and stood. "I love you too much to lose you."

He left then, not waiting for her to respond. She listened to his gait, how it changed from steady and determined when he exited the living room to slow and measured as he approached the front door and let himself feel whatever he was feeling once she was out of sight. She heard the clink of his crutches, the sound of the door open and then close behind him. A few minutes passed before she heard a vehicle start up. She listened to its wheels crunch down the driveway and finally disappear.

She sat for several more minutes, working to pull herself together. She knew she kept lashing out at Nick from a place of fear, but she didn't know how to stop. Everything felt wild, out of control, uncertain. She didn't like not being in control of her own fate. For all she knew, someone could have her in their crosshairs right now.

The thought sent a chill up her spine.

She wondered what letter had been left at this scene. A 'D' or an 'A.' There was one more letter left to complete her father's name. One more murder. Would it be hers? Or someone else's she cared about? Each murder had gotten a little bit closer. The victim had been someone a little more integral to her day-to-day life. Who would be next?

She almost prayed it would be her.

Almost.

She didn't want to die, either.

With a show of resilience, she stood and went into the kitchen. Roz and Harvey were there. She could see Theo's truck turning into the driveway.

"Everything okay?" Roz asked, taking in Sabrina's weary expression.

"Everything is fine," she said, hoping she sounded convincing. "Looks like Theo is back with lunch. Harvey, do you think your dad will eat something?"

She spent the next few hours doing whatever she could to ease the Kinkles' burden. She helped Theo with lunch, encouraged Mr. Kinkle to eat while eating little herself, washed dishes, tried to run interference as much as she could with the well-meaning visitors dropping off casserole after casserole. She vaguely wondered how many casseroles the neighbors had made over the last several weeks – and if they would bring any to her aunts.

She found Harvey sitting on the back porch steps.

"I'm going to head home," she said. "Roz and Theo are still here, they're sitting in the living room keeping your dad company. Please, Harvey, if you or your dad need anything… Anything at all…"

"Sit down for a minute?" Harvey asked in turn. "I've been hoping for a chance to talk to you alone all day." Sabrina took a seat next to him, careful to maintain some space. "How are you doing?"

"Me?" Sabrina asked in surprise. "Don't worry about me…"

Harvey sighed heavily.

"I know, Sabrina."

She looked at him sharply.

"Know what?"

"That this Scrabble Killer guy is after you."

Sabrina frowned.

"But Nick said…"

"He doesn't know I know," Harvey confessed. "I'm not supposed to. He's keeping everything pretty hush hush. It's all on a 'need to know' basis. He's even locking the conference room after you showed up there and only him and Ambrose have keys. Not even Craig has a key. I haven't been involved in the cases really, save for finding Angela and asking his neighbors for security footage after his accident…"

"Wait, what?" she interrupted. "Security footage?"

"He didn't tell you the whole truth about his accident, did he?" Harvey realized.

"He hasn't told me the whole truth about a lot of things," Sabrina muttered more to herself than Harvey. "All he told me was his brakes failed."

"They failed because someone tampered with them."

Sabrina's eyes grew wide.

"Someone tried to kill Nick?"

It was her worst fear realized. She swallowed down the bile that rose in her throat.

"They don't think whoever did it was trying to kill him, just send him a warning, maybe scare him a little, although I don't think Scratch scare easy."

"Was it the murderer?" she pressed.

"Scratch thinks so," Harvey confirmed. "There was no Scrabble piece, nothing like that, but he caught what's the equivalent to a black mass moving towards his SUV for a few moments on his own surveillance cameras. Only two houses on his street had security systems and they didn't catch anything. Whoever it was took care not to be caught in any identifiable way on camera." He scuffed his boot on the peeling porch step. "I set up a security system at Roz's that same day. Just in case. I didn't know about the killer's true motives at that point, but now I check them constantly, just to make sure.

"Nick could have died…" She closed her eyes for a moment and breathed deeply, somehow even more mad at Nick and desperate to hug his neck at the same time. She couldn't even process the fact that Harvey was implying Roz was in danger, simply because she was Sabrina's friend.

"But he didn't," Harvey pointed out. "I'm sure Scratch didn't want you to worry, Sabrina. Don't be too upset with him."

"Nick has been lying to me virtually since day one," she informed Harvey. She mentally kicked herself for not asking more questions. She had always known Nick was leaving out something. She should have pressed harder. "But back to the issue at hand. How do you know that the killer wants me?"

"I snuck into the conference room," Harvey confessed. "I haven't exactly minded not being assigned to the case – we both know the gore isn't really for me, in spite of my love of comics that depict it – but I wanted to know what was going on in my town." He looked at her with a serious expression. "When I realized what the story was, I thought you should know."

"That's why you told me about Nick moving his evidence down to the conference room," Sabrina realized.

"I knew it was a risk, but I just – thought you should know."

"How did this happen?" Sabrina wondered. "How did things get so far down this path? Six people dead, someone wants to kill me…"

"I guess those are the answers Scratch is looking for," Harvey shrugged. He had no better answer himself.

"I'm sorry, Harvey," she said. "This, Tommy… It's all my fault. Ambrose said something about them believing you were the intended target…."

"It looks that way," Harvey confirmed. "I was working an overnight shift. I usually don't, but I was covering for Spriggs so he could take his wife out for their anniversary. Tommy borrowed my yesterday afternoon truck because his wouldn't start. He was dropping it off this morning after a swing shift and almost as soon as he got out of the truck, there was a gunshot. One shot, right through the heart. Dad heard it and went out to investigate. He said he yelled Tommy's name and as he was running towards him, he heard someone running in the woods. He was focused on Tommy, though, and didn't see or hear much else."

"Of course he was focused on his son," Sabrina said. "Nick knows all of this?"

"Scratch has walked every inch of this property and then some, twice," Harvey said with a hint of malice. "He's asked dozens of questions. Him and Craig. I know he's doing his job. I know that better than anyone. But I wish he would just leave us alone for now. Dad seems to think he walks on water, though, told him every minute detail he could think of about this place. I'll bet Scratch knows more about my family home and the land surrounding it than I do now."

"Nick is doing his job," Sabrina soothed. Her emotions flipped again. This time, she was warmed at the thought of Nick listening patiently to a grieving father tell him details she was certain were irrelevant to his case, even though he had work to do. He had undoubtedly understood that Mr. Kinkle needed to talk, to feel like he was helping, and he had let him. She wanted to punch him for being so – him – when she wanted to be mad at him. "And your dad… He just wants answers, Harvey. Like the rest of us. Nick is the best person to give him those, so he's doing what he can to help Nick be successful."

A long silence passed between them.

Sabrina used the silence to resume wrestling with her thoughts. She wanted to be furious at Nick. She was, to a point. But she had also saw something in him when he told her he loved her too much to lose that she couldn't shake. There was a real fear there, something that grew deep in very the soul of Nicholas Scratch. He had been right when she said she was upset, mad, scared, and confused, but he had been incredibly wrong when he said she hated him. She blew out a breath, hoping to release some of her tension. It went nowhere.

"Sabrina?" Harvey asked, breaking the silence. "Will you do something for me?"

"Anything," she answered. "Name it."

"Let Nick protect you." Sabrina raised an eyebrow at Harvey's request. "I don't exactly like the guy. I think he's arrogant and condescending, at least on the job. But I also know he really cares about you. Maybe he did lie about the case, but he did it to protect you and I don't think he was wrong for that."

"I don't need Nick to protect me…"

"You do," Harvey replied, gently but firmly. "I know you have this whole independent thing going on and that I wasn't the best at getting out of your way. I know, too, that Nick likes that about you. He told me as much at Cee's one day. But this is bigger than that. This is your life, Sabrina. I lost my brother today. I can't lose you, too."

"People are dying because of me, Harvey." Her voice cracked. "Your brother is dead because of me. You could have been dead because of me…"

"People are dying because someone decided to take their lives for their own sick revenge game," he interrupted. "You are not to blame for these deaths, Sabrina. Please don't think like that. I know Nick has friends in high places. He can keep you safe. If you will just let him."

"Nick and I have a lot to work out," Sabrina said after a beat. She left it at that. It was odd, talking to her ex about her – whatever Nick was now.

"He loves you, Sabrina. I don't know if he's said it, but I can tell – everyone can. As much as it pains me to admit it, he's a good guy. Maybe he didn't tell you the truth about the murders, or the fact that his accident was no accident. But I don't think he did any of that to hurt you. He had to make some judgment calls, and perhaps he made the wrong ones, but he didn't do it with ill intent." Harvey paused for a breath. "I know you think you can take on the world – and this killer – on your own. But you don't have to."

"It's not easy for me to need people," Sabrina admitted. "My aunts have been wonderful, but I grew up fast without parents. I had to figure a lot of stuff out on my own that a mom or a dad would have been there for. I have always felt the need to take care of myself."

She reasoned a therapist would have a field down with her. Zelda and Hilda had done everything they could to fill the gap her parents left, but there were things they just couldn't make up for, and even now, decades later, she felt their loss profusely. For no reason she had ever been able to identify, she had always felt the need to try to answer her questions and solve her problems herself before imposing on her aunts who, in her opinion, already went out of their way for her. Now, she was starting to see how those tendencies had made her almost too self-reliant and first Harvey, now Nick, were paying the price.

"You don't need to take on the world alone, 'Brina," Harvey said again. He put a friendly arm around her and pulled her to him. "You never have."

She rested her head on Harvey's shoulder. It felt different, platonic, maybe even brotherly. It didn't break her heart the way it would have a few months ago.

"I missed you, Harvey."

"I missed you, too, 'Brina." He gave her a little squeeze. "Friends again?"

"Friends again," Sabrina confirmed. "Always."


	20. Chapter 20

Nick sat at his kitchen island, elbows on the surface, a highball of bourbon in his hand. He took a slow swig and closed his eyes as the amber liquid burned down his throat. He relished in the feeling, tasted the hint of smoke that followed the burn. It was one of his better bottles of bourbon, one he only poured from in celebration or, like tonight, commiseration. The freak November thunderstorm raging outside matched his mood perfectly.

His eyes opened to find the highball glass at eye level. He stared into it, tilted it side to side, making the liquid move about. He didn't drink much anymore, just socially, and right now probably wasn't the best time for him to be drinking alone, but he had reached a point of no return on what he could mentally handle.

It had been selfish of him, but once Ambrose succeeded in making him go home after nearly forty-eight hours straight of work with only a short few hours' nap in his office to keep him going, he had called Nonna. He had a list of confessions, of things he felt guilty about, things he worried about, his hopes, his fears, all things he wanted to keep bottled inside of him. But past behavior had proven that if he kept things inside, it wouldn't end well, so he had called his grandmother and listed his sins, knowing she wouldn't remember them. She had thought he was his grandfather, anyway.

Somehow, he felt even worse.

Six murders, no leads.

A girlfriend – ex-girlfriend? – that was the intended target.

One more murder before the crosshairs were turned on her.

A girlfriend – ex-girlfriend? – that he was madly in love with who didn't believe a single thing he had ever told her.

That was fair, he reasoned. He hadn't told her the truth. No matter how good his intentions were, she saw him as a liar. No matter how far off base she was in her accusations, she didn't believe him. If he were honest with himself, he didn't know how to fix things. All he could do right now was keep her alive.

And he would do that. She may never speak to him again, but he would keep her safe.

Dublin suddenly sat up from where she lay at his feet. She let out a short, low bark, then sprang to her feet. She trotted out of the kitchen. He was considering whether it was worth investigating when a knock sounded at his door. He sighed heavily, prayed whoever it was could be dismissed quickly, and put down his bourbon. He didn't bother to put on a shirt or take up his crutches as he hobbled to the door. Dublin was in front of it, prancing and waging her tail eagerly.

He looked through the peephole.

His breath hitched.

He would know that white blonde hair anywhere.

"Sitz," he told Dublin as he worked the lock. "Blieb."

He opened the door.

There, soaking wet on his doorstep, was Sabrina Spellman.

She looked up at him, eyes full of worry and uncertainty. The rain fell hard. A crack of lightning illuminated her on the porch, her old Toyota parked on his curb where his police SUV would have been had it not been totaled. He waited, letting her set the tone for whatever was about to happen. He didn't have it in him to face her rejection again tonight.

"I'm sorry."

Her voice cracked and so did his resilience. He opened his arms and she came to him, burying herself in his bare chest and wrapping her arms around him tight. He encircled her, held her close, his cheek resting against her temple. Dublin whined, eager to greet Sabrina, but unwilling to break his command to sit and stay.

Sabrina started to cry. He walked them backwards into his house without letting go of her, his senses catching up. She needed to get out of the rain, for one, but it was safer for her inside. He pushed the door shut behind them and felt her shake in his arms as a sob raked through her small frame.

"I have you," he soothed, a hand running up her back and burying itself in her hair to hold her to him. "Everything is going to be okay."

He continued to mutter soothing words to her for several minutes. He could feel her heart beating against his, at first a little too fast, but slowing down to a normal rhythm as he held her. Her sobs turned to a soft cry, then eventually ceased. She didn't pull away, her head resting on his chest, finding comfort in Nick's arms.

"I'm scared," she admitted softly.

"So am I," he confessed. He hugged her to him. She was cold, he realized, soaked through and still shaking slightly. "Let's get you into something dry," he suggested. "Go in my bedroom, find something to change into."

"Would you mind if I took a quick shower?" Sabrina asked. "I'm freezing and after the last couple of days, I just feel – dirty."

"Of course." He pressed a kiss to her temple for selfish reasons before he let her go. "I'll make you some tea while you shower."

"Chamomile?" she suggested.

"Whatever you want," Nick promised. He watched her stoop down to greet Dublin.

"Hi, girl," she said. For the first time since the dog came into Nick's life, Dublin broke his command. She stood and pushed herself into Sabrina as though trying to hug her. She wrapped her arms around the dog in a hug. "You're a good girl," Sabrina whispered. "I hope you've been looking out for him."

Nick's heart clenched.

"She's missed you," he chanced. They both knew he wasn't talking about the dog.

"I've missed her." She wasn't talking about just the dog. "I won't be long."

"Take your time," Nick countered. She gave him a nod and walked down the hall to his bedroom, Dublin trailing behind her. He exhaled, locked the door, and hobbled back into the kitchen, ignoring his throbbing foot. He hadn't exactly followed doctor's orders, but there were more important things than ice packs and exercises on his agenda.

In the kitchen, he leaned on the island for a moment to collect his thoughts. His plan for the night had been to drink a glass or three of bourbon and wallow in self-pity until he had to pull himself together and go to the station in the morning. Sabrina showing up on his doorstep was a surprise. Not a bad one, but one he had to navigate carefully if he didn't want to send her running again. He was going to have to tell her everything, and the idea made his stomach clench.

His eyes fell on his bourbon. He picked up the glass and studied it for a moment before raising it to his lips. He tossed it back, wincing as the liquid burned its way down his esophagus. He blew out a breath and gave his head a shake before putting the glass in his sink. He was just putting a mug of tea on the counter for Sabrina when she emerged from the bathroom, hair damp, this time wearing his faded Penn State Forensics t-shirt he had owned for so long it was threadbare. It was his favorite before, but seeing it on her now, he would never wear it the same way again.

"Feel better?" he asked.

"A little," she nodded. She was hesitant now. So was he.

"Have a seat," he nodded towards the island. She did so. Dublin stayed close to her, but her eyes were on Nick, as though she were debating which of them needed her more. He willed the dog to stay at Sabrina's side. He turned back to the stove and slid the grilled cheese he had made her onto a plate. "Here." He placed it in front of her. "I'm willing to bet you haven't eaten in a while."

She gave him a guilty sort of small smile.

"I haven't," she admitted. It had been two full days since she more than nibbled at something. She eyed him. "Have you?"

"I made myself one, too." He turned away to plate his own sandwich. He placed it on the island and hobbled around to the stool next to Sabrina. "I hope it's okay," he said, hating the tension between them. "I haven't exactly done a lot of grocery shopping lately. It was this or dry cereal – I ran out of milk days ago."

"This is perfect," she told him, touched by his gesture. "Thank you, Nick."

"Anything for you."

He watched her out of the corner of his eye. She ate methodically, as though all of her effort was on chewing. Nick guessed it was. They ate in silence until she looked over and caught a glimpse of Nick's foot.

"Nicholas Scratch!"

"What?" he asked. "What did I do?"

"Your foot!" She motioned at it, turning on her stool to get a better look. "It's more swollen and bruised than it was the day after you broke it! Where's your boot? Have you been icing it? Resting it? Doing your exercises?" His silence told her what she already knew. "Nick!"

"The doctor said I didn't need to use the boot when I was at home," he tried.

"He said when you were resting," she pointed out. "You're not resting, making grilled cheeses and hobbling around without your crutches."

"I've had a lot going on," he reminded her. "My foot is the least of my worries."

"You're going to do more damage and end up needing surgery," she informed him. "If you're this much of a pain in the ass with what was supposed to be a minor break, I can only imagine how much fun you'll be when the doctor tells you you can't walk on it at all."

"It'll be fine," he dismissed. "You finished?" He made to collect her plate.

"I've got it," she informed it. "You need to stay off your foot."

She slid from the stool and took their dishes to the sink. She spied the bourbon glass, but didn't comment on it. She focused on washing the few dishes they had used, bracing herself for the conversation she knew they were about to have. She felt Nick approaching before he reached her. He stopped behind her, close enough that she could feel the heat from his body. She closed her eyes, both wishing it didn't feel so good to have him close, and wanting him to wrap his arms around her again.

"Can we talk?" he asked carefully. "There's – a lot I want to tell you. You deserve some explanations, not to mention apologies. But if you don't want to hear it right now, that's okay, too. You can sleep in my bed, with Dublin, and I'll take the couch. I just don't want you to drive home tonight, not in this weather, not with – everything else going on. That's the only thing I'm going to take a stand on tonight."

"We can talk," she agreed quietly. She couldn't help herself. She dried her hands and turned to him. Without a word, she slipped her arms around his neck and hugged him tight. "I'm sorry," she said again. "I'm so sorry, Nick."

"I don't know what you're apologizing for," he said with a shake of his head, his own arms around her again. It had been three days since he held her last, when he had woken her up to kiss her goodbye the morning of the day she found her way into the conference room, but it felt like a lifetime. "You have nothing to apologize for."

"I've been awful…"

"Shhh," he hushed. "You've been trying to process a lot."

She gave him one more squeeze before she let go.

"Living room?" Nick nodded. He took her hand, intending to lead the way. "Stop right there, Scratch." He looked at her with a raised eyebrow. "Where are your crutches?" He sighed.

"In the living room."

"And your boot?"

"Also in the living room."

"Don't move." He stayed where he was to humor her. She came back with his crutches moments later. "Use these to get to the living room. I'll give you no boot if you prop your foot up on the pillows I put on the coffee table."

"Negotiating," he said, accepting his crutches. "I'll agree to that."

"Go ahead," she said. "I'm going to make you an ice pack."

"Knew there would be a catch," he muttered. Still, he humored her. Dublin followed him as he crutched out of the kitchen. He found two of his couch pillows piled on the coffee table. He tossed one to the floor, then sat down and propped up his foot. Dublin took up her spot at the end of the sofa, leaving room for Sabrina on the other side of Nick. "Satisfied?" he asked when she appeared.

"Mostly." She arranged two bags of ice around his foot. "How's that?"

"Cold."

"Good." She sat beside him and pulled her knees to her chest. "I went to the station first," she started. "I thought that would be the place I'd find you. Ambrose was still there doing paperwork and told me he sent you home for the night."

"I haven't really left the station in two days," he said. "Ambrose wasn't wrong in saying I needed a break. He escorted me out himself, said I had to eat dinner at home tonight."

"Hence the bourbon I smell on your breath?" she asked pointedly.

"My plan was have a liquid dinner alone and wallow in self-pity," he admitted. "I'm glad you showed up on my doorstep instead. You saved me from myself."

She had no idea how true that was, but if things went well enough, she would before the end of the night.

"I left Harvey's, and the only thing I wanted was to see you," she confessed. "To – apologize. Talk about all of this. Get the truth and figure out how to move forward." She looked him in the eye. "Hopefully together."

He took her hand.

"Together," he repeated. "I don't want to be without you, Sabrina. These last two days…" He trailed off, but she squeezed his hand in understanding. "How is Harvey? Mr. Kinkle?"

"Harvey was still pretty upset," she shared. "Roz is with him. Mr. Kinkle was locked away in his bedroom, hopefully without a bottle of alcohol. He hasn't drank in years, but Harvey's worried this will drive him back to it."

"Questioning him was awful," Nick shared. "The whole thing was awful, but there's something especially heart wrenching about talking to parents who have lost their child in an awful way."

"You looked rather jealous when you walked in and found me hugging Harvey."

"I was." There was no use denying that he had been. He tapped the fingers of his hand that had been absentmindedly resting on Dublin, preparing his confession. "I've held onto to a fear that you will leave me and go back to Harvey. Despite everything, he's your first love and you were with him for a long time. You have a history."

"Harvey is in the past," she assured him. "He's my friend now, but that's it – that's all he'll ever be." Nick nodded, trying to believe that. "Is there any new evidence?" she asked, shifting the conversation. "Anything to narrow down a suspect?"

"I've got a lot of evidence to go through. Hilda is rushing forensics, but I know the murder weapon was different. He hasn't used the same method to kill so far." Nick shook his head. "I've worked serial killer cases before. They almost always have a similar kill pattern, a method they prefer, or a way they dispose of their victims. This guy leaves a Scrabble tile, but nothing else about the murders are the same from one to the next, save for their connection to you." A chill ran through her at the thought.

"The original Scrabble Killer murdered each victim the same way – a gunshot through the chest, so in that way, their murder sprees are different." He shook his head in disbelief that he still didn't have at least a person of interest. "One of the worst cases I've ever worked was a guy we dubbed the Cresent Moon Killer. He brutally attack his victims, slit their throats when he was done with them, and carved a crescent moon into their skin." Sabrina looked rightfully horrified. "He killed a dozen women before I tracked him down to a slum house in Queens. He's serving out multiple life sentences now."

Sabrina again marveled at how Nick did his job, how he coped with the things he saw and experienced.

"Tell me about our Scrabble Killer," she requested. "Everything, Nick. Don't leave out a single detail. You can't. Not now."

"You already know most of what we know," he assured her. "I kept going back to the photos of the tiles we found and trying to make sense of them. They were devoid of DNA, but I knew they were more significant than a casual calling card. Ambrose and I were catching up after the Blackwood murder and he asked me if I was sure I didn't want to tell the press about the tiles. I was against it at that point – I wanted to keep my cards close, make him question whether we knew he was responsible for the murders. Sometimes, with cases like this, you can draw out the killer by ignoring them. They want the publicity, the circus. Think Ted Bundy, the Zodiac killer, Happy Face. I hoped he would do something to put us on his trail, but he didn't bite.

"Ambrose said something about it being just as well that we kept it from the press because there would be a field day with calling to attention that we had no leads on the 'Scrabble Killer.' That jarred my memory. I went to the Penn State database and found your father's case, put the tiles together to spell Edward, and realized the killer is most likely after you."

"Is that when you decided to keep everything from me?" Sabrina questioned.

"Yes," he confirmed. He held her hand a little tighter. "I love that you are so independent, so passionate and steadfast and despite being on the receiving end of it more often than not, stubborn to a fault. But you are also incredibly loyal and loving and when all of that is combined, we were worried about what you would do so we decided it was best not to tell you." He brushed his thumb across the back of her hand. "I'm still worried about what you're going to do."

"Were you ever going to tell me?"

It's a fair question. Nick considered it for a moment before answering it.

"In the name of honesty?" he asked. "No. Not until it was behind us, and I had my guy in custody and I knew you were safe. If I thought knowing the truth would save your life? I would have absolutely told you. But had you not walked into that conference room, no, I don't think I would have told you until everything was done."

"Okay," she said after a moment. "I don't know that I like that answer, but it was honest."

"It was honest," Nick agreed. "I'm sorry if you don't like it, but you want the truth, and that's what I'm giving you."

"I thought I was the suspect at first," she admitted. "When I was looking at your dry erase board and how all the victims were connected to me, I thought I was your suspect, and I started thinking through where I was during each murder and how you should know it couldn't possibly be me, never mind the fact that I would never do something like that. But then I found your notebook."

"We don't even have a person of interest," Nick told her. "I've got a hell of a lot of unanswered questions, though. The Wardwells' door was locked. Either the killer locked it behind him on the way out, or he exited another way. I've gone back to their house a couple of times, but nothing stands out. Their daughter has had the place deep cleaned and removed most of their belongings, so any hope of finding another piece of evidence is pretty much gone.

"I don't know why Cassius was at the library on a Sunday evening. I've got him traced down to an early dinner at the diner as his last known location before the library. Before we knew it was the work of a serial killer, we thought maybe he stopped by to pick up something or get some work done and walked in on a robbery, but public libraries don't exactly have large amounts of money on hand.

"Same with Angela," he continued. "Why was she at the bell tower? Especially at that time of day, when most everyone else was at Cassius' funeral. Blackwood was killed in his church. He could have been surprised, I suppose, but I don't think he was." Nick bit his lip for a moment. "I think the killer is someone they all knew and trusted. Someone in this town, not a stranger. The problem is, everyone knows everyone in Greendale and until recently, have been a little too trusting."

"What about Tommy?" Sabrina asked. "He was ambushed."

"He was," Nick agreed. "I do think that lends itself to the theory that Harvey was the intended target. As a cop, Harvey would have access to a gun, be more inclined to investigate a suspicious noise. He planned the killing to be quick, a surprise. He shot as soon as Tommy was out of the truck, without waiting to see if it was his intended target."

"And what about you?"

"What about me?" Nick countered, confused.

"Harvey told me about your brake lines." Nick sighed.

"Someone sabotaged them," he confirmed. "I don't think they were trying to kill me. Scare me, warn me, but not kill me. We've looked high and low. There was no Scrabble tile, no other signs of tampering. The only thing that concerns me is that he has clearly been watching my house." His thumb made another pass over Sabrina's hand. "I felt better about you being here alone than at the mortuary, alone or otherwise, but I'm less confident in that now."

"And were you going to tell me about any of that?" she pushed.

"No," Nick confessed. "I knew you would worry, and you worry enough about me as it is. I didn't think it was necessary to add that to your plate."

"You have to tell me things, Nick," she said. "That's the only way we work. A lie by omission is still a lie, and the number of things you have omitted from me is substantial at this point."

"I have only tried to protect you," he told her. "Maybe I was wrong, but I meant well.

"Going forward?" she pressed.

"Going forward, I will tell you what I can. But Sabrina, the nature of my job means that there will be things, be it with this case or another one, that I can't just tell you over our evening coffee and tea. Victims and their families have rights, too. Can we agree that I will tell you as much of the truth as I can, especially when it concerns you?"

"I can agree to that with the exception of this Scrabble Killer case," she said. Nick was right. His victims and their families did have rights, and Nick wouldn't violate them. She wouldn't ask him to. "I'm the end goal, Nick. I need to know everything."

"Okay," he agreed. "I'll agree to that." He squeezed her hand in confirmation. She squeezed back. "At this point, I think you know everything we know about the case, save for the research we're doing. There's so much of it that I would never be able to tell you everything, but as long as Ambrose agrees, I can let you look through it."

"I want to do that," she confirmed. "I want to know everything."

"Does Kinkle know?" Nick asked. "Did you decide to tell him?"

Sabrina took a deep breath.

"In the name of honesty, because I can't ask you to be honest with me if I'm not honest with you, I'm going to tell you something you're not going to like. But given recent events, I want you to let it go without incident." He waited, suspicious. "Harvey knows, but I didn't tell him. He, too, had a look in the conference room. I had planned to wait for you in your office, but I bumped into him and he mentioned that you probably wouldn't come back upstairs after your meeting because you put all your evidence in the conference room. He knew I would go looking for you there eventually, and thought I should know I was the target."

Nick blew out a long breath to keep his temper in check.

"That explains that," he muttered. "Craig texted me that you were in my office. He knew I moved everything to minimize the risk of you finding out and was trying to keep you upstairs."

"Harvey is also the reason I'm here tonight," she continued. "He encouraged me to let you protect me." She studied their linked hands, considering her next words. "I've always taken care of myself, Nick. My aunts are incredible and have treated me like their own, but not having parents caused me to feel like I needed to try to take care of myself first, before I imposed on someone else…"

"You're not an imposition," Nick interrupted. "I want to protect you, Sabrina. Hell, I need to protect you. This isn't just a guy playing pranks. He's taking people's lives…"

"I know," Sabrina soothed, squeezing Nick's hand again. "I just don't know how to reconcile being the target and being protected while there is a risk of people dying because of me. The theory suggests that there's one more murder before it's my turn." Nick cringed at her casual language. "I'm struggling to allow you – or anyone else – to stand between me and whoever this person is at the risk of leaving someone else vulnerable."

"Sabrina, we've already put patrol on you," Nick confessed. "If I go outside right now, I'll find an officer watching this house, for no other reason than the fact that you're in it."

"Nick…" she sighed.

"It's not just you," he continued. "Each murder has gotten a little bit closer to your inner circle. Mrs. Wardwell was important to you in high school. You remained in touch with her and her husband. You spent a lot of time with Cassius. Blackwood was your aunt's lover. Tommy was your ex-boyfriend's brother, but the intended target was likely Harvey himself."

"Which means someone even closer to me is next," Sabrina realized. Nick hurried on to do what he could to alleviate her concerns.

"We've called in backup from Riverdale and surrounding counties. The FBI has supplied us with a few agents, and they are helping with evidence analysis. Your aunts have patrol on them, as does Theo, Cee, Prudence, even the twins, and as of earlier today, Roz, Harvey, and Mr. Kinkle. Anyone else you think of that you want patrol on, say the word and I'll make it happen."

"You," Sabrina said automatically. "Ambrose."

Nick was already shaking his head no.

"We can take care of ourselves," he said, knowing he wasn't going to soothe her worries. "I'm the lead detective. Ambrose is the police captain. We're at risk regardless, but you just have to trust me on this one."

"I don't like it…"

"You have to trust me," Nick said again. "I know what I'm doing. So does Ambrose." His thumb made a few more passes over the back of her hand. "What other questions do you have about the case? About what we're doing?"

"Have you told me everything?" Sabrina asked. He heard her skepticism.

"I've told you everything I know," he confirmed. "I promise, Sabrina. You know everything, save for what we've learned from the research which at this point, isn't much. You can come by the station and look through it."

"Okay," she agreed. She exhaled, making a decision. "I'm going to trust you. I'm going to believe that you have been honest with me. Please, Nick, don't make me regret it."

"I've told you everything, I swear it." He squeezed her hand yet again. It was the only means of contact he was willing to make until she showed signs of being open to accepting something more. It calmed him a little more each time he felt her hand squeeze back. "From here on out, what I find out, I tell you."

"For the record, all of this is off the record," she told him. "I'm here to understand what's going on, but more importantly, to fix things between us. I'm not going to report on any of this."

"That's all I want," he said, "to fix us. Fighting with you would have been terrible anyway, but fighting with you like this, knowing there's someone that wants to hurt you… It's a damned wonder I'm not a few bottles in instead of one glass."

"I'm scared, Nick," she said for the second time that night. "That's a big part of why I've been lashing out at you."

"I'm scared, too," he reminded her. "I love you, Sabrina. The idea of someone taking you from me…" He had to take a moment to compose himself. Sabrina looked on, curious. He opened his eyes and looked at her. "I need to tell you everything about Amalia. I also need you to know she is hard for me to talk about. I meant it when I said I've had a tough year."

"You can talk to me," she reminded him. "Even about the hard stuff."

He took another deep breath. Sabrina had no idea how hard this was for him, but he owed her the truth. And he thought, maybe, it would help him to confide in her.

"I already told you I met her at a bar," he started. "I'd had a rough few days at work, investigating a four year old's murder. It was an awful case. Grizzly. I still think about it sometimes." He shook his head to dismiss the images that threatened to form from memories he tried to suppress. "I needed a stiff drink, and walked into a bar near the station the others didn't frequent. She was slinging drinks behind it.

"She was gorgeous," he remembered with a fond smile. "She had this wild dark curly hair that couldn't be tamed. She was tall, willowy. She was serving drinks, but she had dreams of being a dancer. Her family was this big, loud Greek family from New Jersey and they wanted her to find a 'real' career, but she was determined to dance.

"She was truly herself when she danced. She moved in a way I can't describe. She practiced for hours every day, went to audition after audition. She got passed over almost always, but that didn't stop her from trying." He paused for a moment to run his fingers through Dublin's fur. "When she poured me a second glass of bourbon, she said 'want to talk about it, handsome?' and that's how it started.

"The first six months or so were great. We didn't really go on dates – my schedule and hers didn't line up much – but I would stop by the bar after work, or she would turn up at my place when she got off. I kept long, late hours, so it worked out. In hindsight, most of our relationship was physical, but we were too in the moment to realize it.

"Eventually, she wanted a commitment from me. I remember thinking, even as I agreed to be more of a boyfriend, that it wasn't the right decision. But she was convincing and I'm ashamed to admit I was more interested in avoiding a fight.

"I had no idea how to be a boyfriend," he confessed. "Or rather, I wasn't willing to be. I loved my job, Sabrina. I loved being at the station, working a crime scene, raiding a building where my suspect was hiding and bringing them in. If there was a little bit of excitement, like a chase or a standoff, all the better. She wanted more from me, though. More of me, I guess I should say. She wanted me to spend time with her, take her on dates, spend time with her family.

"We started fighting more. We would break up, get back together, break up again. It was unhealthy, and I take full blame for not being a better man. I should have stepped up or walked away and stayed away. I realized within that first year that I didn't love her, not the way she deserved. I would say the words, but I didn't mean them like I was supposed to. I said them casually, not thinking of the consequences. She said it first, I said it back automatically, without thinking of what I was doing, and it spiraled.

"I realized, around last Thanksgiving, that we needed to breakup and stay that way. I tried to end things a few times, but I had a few big cases on my desk, it was the holidays, and I just couldn't seem to make the time. Really, I wasn't willing to make the time. We kept fighting. We had a huge blowout on Christmas because I was at the station instead of with her and then again on New Year's, again because I was working Times Square instead of with her. I made the decision after that fight that it had to be over. It was time."

Nick stopped. He closed his eyes and rubbed the space between his eyes, collecting himself. This was the hard part.

"If you need to stop…" Sabrina offered. Nick shook his head.

"I don't talk about it, but I need to. I need you to know how I got from there to here. I need you to know why protecting you is so important to me."

"I'm listening." She squeezed his hand in support. "I'm here, Nick. Take your time."

He nodded once and took another breath.

"I was working a case involving a gang rivalry. There had been a shootout in a Brooklyn neighborhood. Several people died, including a couple of innocent bystanders. I was systematically picking off those involved, and anyone else I happened to be able to bring in that was remotely connected to them. Honestly, I was tired of reporting to the same neighborhood for the same crimes by the same people. I wanted them off the streets. I managed to cuff one of the gang's leaders and get him booked on a long list of charges. I was damned proud of myself for it, but they wanted revenge.

"January fifth of this year, I went to the bar Amalia worked at with the intention of ending things for good. We hadn't really spoken in days, and what words were exchanged weren't good ones. I pulled up at the bar at my usual spot and another bartender poured me my usual bourbon. I had my back to the door, or else I would have seen them walk in."

"Oh, Nick," Sabrina breathed, afraid she saw where this was going, remembering how Nick told her at the station that Amalia was dead and it was his fault.

"They opened fire. I was their target, but they showed no mercy. I was still wearing my tactical vest and sheer dumb luck kept me from getting hit. I didn't have time to call for backup. All I could do was get my gun and start shooting back." He rubbed Dublin's fur. "Dublin was with me. That's when she got shot. Trying to protect me."

Sabrina tightened her grip on Nick's hand and didn't let go.

"It felt like forever, but it was all over in less than a minute. I shot one of them in the leg and crippled him, but the rest of them fled. There were people down everywhere, but my eyes fell on Amalia. She was slumped over on the bar. I'd seen enough dead bodies to know she was gone, but I went to her."

There were tears in Nick's eyes. Sabrina moved closer to him, seeking to comfort him, all other thoughts fleeing in favor of supporting him.

"She was dead, but I still tried to revive her. They had to pull me off of her when backup got there." He rubbed a hand over his face. "They hit her five times, all in the chest. Two more people died, three others were badly injured. All because I chose to walk into that bar."

"Nick, it wasn't your fault…"

"Just like the Scrabble Killer's murders aren't your fault?" he countered.

She understood. No matter what the rational brain said, the heart said something different. Nick understood the guilt she was struggling with more than she could have ever imagined. He raised her hand to his mouth and pressed his lips into the back of it.

"I was put on administrative leave – standard procedure while they investigate – and had to have a psych eval before I could come back to work. It was all pretty cut and dry – I was attacked and had to respond with force. In hindsight, I went back far too soon. I wasn't ready. I was struggling with a lot of guilt. She lost her life because of me. I wasn't fast enough to draw my gun and protect her. But worst of all…" He stopped for a moment to re-center himself again.

"I didn't love her," he said. "Not like I should have. I should have broken up with her at the sixth month mark instead of agreeing to be in a relationship. I should have been a better man and turned her away instead of getting back into bed with her. We were both guilty – sometimes I just wanted a warm body, and I knew she would come." He shook his head. "The autopsy showed she was pregnant. It was early on – so early she may not have even known herself."

"Nick," Sabrina sighed, her heart breaking for him.

"I don't think it was mine," he continued. Sabrina wasn't sure if that was better or worse. "We hadn't slept together since makeup sex Thanksgiving weekend and she was only a few weeks along. The math didn't add up, and I had suspicions that she was seeing someone else, even hoped she was to get me out of the relationship easier. Still, I think about what I might have done had things worked out differently. I've always wanted kids. I want the chance to be the dad I didn't have." A tear slid down Sabrina's cheek. Now that Nick had opened up, he couldn't stop. "Even if it hadn't been mine, I probably would have raised it as if it had been."

"I'm so sorry, Nick…"

If he heard her, he didn't let on.

"I struggled for a long time after her death. I was drinking too much, sleeping around. My work was slippinh. I got called into my superior's office and he gave me an ultimatum – straighten up or never work in New York again. He suspended me with pay and determined I had to go to counseling if I wanted to come back. I resisted at first, but I missed being a detective enough to go. Therapy is one of the best things I have ever done for myself."

She brought their clasped hands to her lips this time.

"A couple of months in, I started to realize I needed a fresh start. I struggled with leaving Nonna, but I knew in my gut I needed to get out of New York. Greendale was the first job I applied for. I had a terrible interview – I was trying too hard to avoid bringing up my current situation and what had happened to Amalia – and was certain I didn't get it. Then Ambrose called and within a couple of weeks, I was here."

He looked at her.

"I was intrigued by the fact that Ambrose was your father's nephew," he admitted. "I spent so much time studying Detective Spellman's work that the irony that I got to work with his nephew wasn't lost on me." He threaded his fingers through Sabrina's. "Falling in love with his daughter? That blindsided me, in the best possible way. I wasn't looking for a relationship, but you… Sabrina, you chased away the darkness that's been following me for so long."

Another tear escaped down Sabrina's cheek.

"I tried, so hard, to be a good boyfriend to you. I don't want to mess this up. I did lie to you. But I've only ever lied to protect you." He turned so he could face her and cradled her cheek with his free hand. She leaned into his touch. "It wrecked me to lose Amalia, and I didn't love her. But you're the love of my life, Sabrina. Losing you would kill me."

She turned her head so she could kiss his palm.

"You were – are – a good boyfriend," she told him softly. "Nick, I'm so sorry. I said some terrible things to you…"

"It's okay," he shook his head. "You were upset. I lied to you and you didn't know about Amalia…"

"That's not an excuse." She felt horrible. "I said things I didn't mean, but I know they hurt you. Especially what I said about Amalia."

"What hurt was hearing you say we're over," Nick hedged. "I could get past the rest of it – I know from years of working with victims' families that things get said in the heat of the moment that aren't meant. But I've been going crazy these last couple of days, trying to keep it all together, find this killer, keep you safe, figure out how to get you to talk to me again…" played with a strand of her hair. "I made the decision that my priority had to be keeping you safe and finding this killer. The rest of it would work itself out, as long as you're alive."

"Priority," Sabrina repeated, looking at him. "My birthday, you came to my party even though you had Angela's case on your desk. You said I was your priority. That was because of Amalia."

"It was," he agreed. "I was never there for her. Never, Sabrina. Not once did I turn up somewhere on time or go out of my way to simply have dinner with her. You? It's not hard for me to drop everything and run for you."

She placed her own hand on his cheek, mirroring how his was still on hers.

"Please forgive me, Nick," she asked. "I said so many terrible things to you, not just in that conference room, but in my bedroom, in the kitchen when I fainted, and at Harvey's. I didn't mean them, not really…"

"You meant some of them," Nick said knowingly. "I deserved some of what you said. But Sabrina, there's nothing for me to forgive. You're here, and that's all that matters." He removed his hand from her cheek and took her other hand in it. "Forgive me for lying to you? I swear, Sabrina, I have never lied to hurt you."

"I forgive you," she whispered, tears forming in her eyes, her resolve faltering. "Hold me, Nick."

He pulled her into his arms and settled back against the sofa. He felt her tears on his bare chest. A few of his own escaped. He held her tighter, willing the day to come when she cried less and laughed more.

"Ambrose knows about Amalia," she said after a while. "Doesn't he?"

"Not in as much detail as you, but yes," Nick confirmed. "Both of us – we've had to check ourselves a few times. We're so invested in finding this killer, but also in keeping you safe. I came clean over drinks last week. He needed to know as my superior, but also as your cousin." He ran a hand through her hair. "I would have told you, too. Outside of my therapist, I haven't talked about her to anyone in months. I would have told you, though. I know that."

"What happens now?" she asked. "What's the next move?"

"We hope we find something with Tommy's murder that gives us the break we need." He kissed the top of her hair. "I should have forensics in the morning, lunchtime at the latest. I need you to cooperate with me though, Sabrina. I need you to let me put the means in place to keep you safe. I'll do what I can to keep this town safe, too, but if you're well-protected, it might frustrated him enough to start making mistakes, start taking risks. I need to rattle him. He's been too good so far."

"You – and Ambrose – have to protect yourselves, too," she said. "I know what you're going to say about doing your job, but I can't lose someone else I care about, Nick." She lifted her head off his shoulder. "I can't lose you, no more than you can lose me."

"You won't lose me," he promised her. "I love you too much to hurt you like that."

He kissed her then, tentatively at first, then with a little more emotion when she returned the gesture. He held her close, tight, felt some of the pieces of his heart click back into place. She had the power to bring him to his knees, and he would let her do it over and over again.

"Nick," she breathed when they pulled apart. She settled back into his arms and let her hand drift from where she had placed it along his jaw, down his neck and over his chest. She looked into his eyes. "I lo…"

"No," he interrupted with a shake of his head. "Please, Sabrina, don't say those words."

She frowned.

"But Nick, I do…"

"It's selfish of me, but I can't hear you say those words to me," he cut her off again. "Not until I have this guy in custody and I can go to bed at night knowing you're safe. I know it might be irrational, but for my own self-perseverance during this, I just can't hear you say those words."

Sabrina thought she might understand. Given his past, he was trying to protect himself. She didn't like it, but she would try, at least for now, to honor his wish.

"I do," she told him, taking his hand again. "I want you to know that – I do."

"I know," he said with a nod. And he did. He could feel it. "I know you do, Sabrina."

"If you won't let me say it, I'll do this to let you know." She squeezed his hand three times. His eyes filled with tears he blinked away. He squeezed back four times.

"I love you, too."

He kissed her again, and this time, there was want there. Desire. He pulled her closer as she reached for him. His t-shirt bunched around her thigh as she turned her body to him. His hand was there, feeling the soft skin. He was aware of her hands dancing across his chest.

"Nick," she sighed. "I want you."

She wanted him right then, physically, but she wanted him in other ways, too. She wanted him by her side. She wanted him to love her for the rest of their lives.

"Are you sure?" he asked, forehead resting against hers. "After everything… With everything…"

She kissed him.

"I'm sure, Nick." She met his eyes. "Are you?"

"I've been sure since the night you made me confess I hate black jelly beans."

She stood, keeping her eyes on Nick even as she moved his ice bags away from his foot. She offered him her hand and he pretended to allow her to help him to his feet. She passed him his crutches, a move that made him smile just a little because it was so typically Sabrina.

"Come on, Scratch," she said. "Follow me."

He would follow her anywhere, but he crutched down the hall, his desire brewing. He wanted the pleasure of being with her, but more than that, he wanted the connection. He wanted to show her what she meant to him.

In his bedroom, she turned to him. He kept his eyes on her as he propped his crutches beside the door. He hobbled the last couple of steps to her and balanced largely on one foot as he encircled her with his arms. There was one more thing he needed to address before he would allow them to break through the last barrier between them.

"Just so you know, I'm clean," he told her. "My therapist had me get checked out after some of my more questionable choices. I have condoms in my nightstand…" He had stocked up when he started to date Sabrina, perhaps a little eager at what he hoped would come.

"I am, too," she told him, appreciating that he was willing to bring up their safety. "I have an IUD. We can use a condom if you want, but it's not necessary. I trust you."

There was nothing stopping them now.

His arms slid down her and his hands went under his faded t-shirt. Goosebumps broke out on her skin at his gentle touch. He pushed his hands upward, bringing the t-shirt with him. She lifted her arms so he could remove it. He blatantly stared at her, standing before him in just a pair of panties and nothing else.

"You're beautiful," he whispered, stepping towards her, ignoring the persistent pain in his foot. "I love you."

She found his hand and squeezed three times.

Together, they lowered themselves to the bed. Nick positioned himself over her and rested his full body on hers. She relished in the weight of him. The outside world didn't exist in that moment. It was just her and Nick and the promise of what was to come. She pressed her hips into him, and felt the bulge in his sweatpants.

He took over.

His mouth moved over her, starting at her mouth and working down her neck, along her chest, down her torso. His hands joined his descent, and she hissed in pleasure when he cupped her breast. He reminded himself to slow down, that she had only ever been with Harvey. He was sure he could make her body hum in a way she had never felt before, but he didn't want to rush it. Not tonight. Tonight, he wanted to make sure she felt everything he felt for her.

Her body was already alight. She had one hand in his hair, the other clutched the sheets as his mouth descended lower and lower. She felt the want pooling, anticipated what he would do next.

She was surprised to find herself suddenly on top, Nick flipping them when she didn't expect it. Chest-to-chest, she lowered her lips to his. His hands slid down her back, came to rest on her ass. He squeezed and pumped his hips into her.

"Sit up," he whispered in her ear.

"What?" she asked distractedly. All she could feel was Nick's growing bulge, separated from her by just the fabric of his sweatpants and her panties. She could faintly taste his bourbon, her tea.

"Sit up," he said again. "Go ahead."

Sabrina did as he asked. He studied her, aware that her cheeks were coloring pink under his steady gaze. His goal had been to slow himself down, make the night last longer, but with her straddling him and nearly naked, his plan backfired. He reached up and placed a hand on her shoulder.

"Nick…"

"I just want to look at you for a moment." His hand started a path down her chest, cupped her breast again. "But I also need to feel you." He sat up, pressing their chests together. Sabrina kissed him, rocked against him. He groaned into her mouth, unable to hide how affected he was by her.

"Please, Nick," she whispered. "Touch me."

He laid her back down on the pillows and lay beside her, an arm under her head, the other back to traveling along her body. He watched for any sign of her discomfort as his hand slipped between her legs. The fabric was wet, but it was her gasp of desire that gave him courage. He hooked his fingers through her panties and pulled them down her legs.

"I love you," he whispered, his lips by her ear as his fingers slipped between her folds. She cried out, but he felt her hand squeeze his shoulder four times.

_I love you, too. _

He blinked back tears.

She unraveled as his fingers moved over her and in her. Her chest was heaving and a fine layer of sweat covered her body when he pulled away.

"Nick," she sighed, rolling to him. "My turn."

"Sabrina… tonight… you…."

His words weren't cohesive, but she knew what he meant. He wanted tonight to be about her. She refused.

"Tonight is about us," she corrected him. "Us, Nick." She ran a hand through his hair. "It's your turn to feel."

She was everywhere then, overwhelming his senses. His body hummed. The residual hurt from the last two days melted away. He helped her remove his sweatpants, then his boxer briefs. There we no barriers now, nothing but his own will stopping him from taking her right then. His whole body shuttered when her hand wrapped around him.

"God, Sabrina," he breathed, squeezing his eyes shut as sensation overtook him. He could only allow her a few strokes before he grabbed for her hand. He turned them again, so he was once more on top of her. Her knees bent and fell open to either side below him, allowing him room. "I'm going to make love to you," he told her, eyes on her. "I love you, Sabrina."

Her hand squeezes were hard and poignant in response.

"Please, Nick," she nearly begged after the last squeeze. "I want you."

He positioned himself at her entrance, then took her other hand. He drew their hands over her head and dropped his mouth to hers as he pushed into her.

They both groaned.

She was everything he had never felt before. He had no doubt that everything about her had been made for him, and even buried deep in her, he could only think of how there was no way he would allow anyone to harm her. She rocked against him again, letting him know she was ready.

He moved in and out of her with deliberate strokes, losing himself a little more with each movement. He felt her tensing around him, picked up his pace to draw her towards him.

"Sabrina," he grunted. He swore, feeling his own body growing closer to an edge he wanted to both hold off on falling over and jump off of in free fall.

"Nick." She wrapped her legs around him, drawing him in deeper. "Harder."

Her wish was his command. Her grip on his hands tightened as she cried out. He kissed her, pushed her a little further, asked a little more of her. She responded, matching him, crying out in pleasure.

"Sabrina," he grunted into her neck. "I… You…. With… Me…"

His ask of her to come with him, as fractured as it was, was the tipping point. She fell apart in waves and he followed her moments later, erupting into her.

He collapsed on top of her, both of them slick with sweat, their limbs tired, their minds blank, hearts full. He listened to her heartbeat pounding against her chest as he came down. She felt his own heart beating against her, steady and reassuring. Her fingers danced through his hair. He sighed contently.

"That was perfect," she said. "Perfect, Nick."

"Worth the wait?" he asked with a teasing note.

"Worth the wait," she confirmed with a small smile. He kissed her shoulder and moved off of her. He stood, but only to pull the blankets back. He got back into bed and opened his arm to her and she settled into her usual spot as he brought the blankets over them. "Is Dublin still in the living room?"

"I think so." He kissed her forehead, unable to stop touching her. "Dublin! Heir!" They listened to her footsteps hurrying down the hall. "You want her up here?" Nick asked. Sabrina nodded against him. "Hopp!" Dublin joined them on the bed and positioned herself so Sabrina was wedged between her and Nick. "She's making sure you're not going anywhere."

"I'm not going anywhere," Sabrina promised, not minding how the dog took up so much space, pushed her even closer to Nick. She reached out to rub Dublin's fur. "I'm sorry I kicked you out of my room," she told the dog. Dublin responded by licking her. "You reminded me of your dad, and it hurt too much."

Nick hugged her to him.

"She looked as lost as I felt, sitting outside your door. She pawed at it, whined. She loves you almost as much as I do." She pressed a kiss to his chest.

"I really am sorry, Nick."

"I'm sorry too," he soothed. "I forgive you, Sabrina. I hope you can forgive me, too."

"I forgive you," she assured him. "But, I need you to do two things for me."

"Name them."

He would figure out how to bring her the moon if she asked for it.

"Be honest with me. About everything."

"Done," he promised. She propped herself up so she could see him better.

"Wear your tactical vest. If you're not going to have added protection, at least wear your vest. I'm going to ask Ambrose to do the same, but please, Nick, wear your vest, at the station, on the streets… Just wear it. For me."

He smoothed her damp, sweaty hair away from her face.

"I'll wear my vest," he agreed. It was an easy compromise to make. "You'll let me protect you?"

"I will." She lay back down, noting that she felt safe, loved, wanted in Nick's arms. "We have to find this person, Nick. Before anyone else I care about dies."

"I can't promise that I'll find him before he does more damage," Nick said. "But I can promise I will find him."

"One more promise?" she asked. "Well, two more?"

"You're driving a hard bargain, Spellman."

"Take care of that foot properly? Boot, ice, exercise, rest, all of it? Before it gets worse than it already is?"

"I'll do better," he promised. "I have a feeling you'll see to it that I do."

"I will," she agreed. "Last one." She snuggled even closer. "Keep me in your arms all night long?"

"Tonight, tomorrow night, and every night after that," he swore. He had no intentions of sleeping alone for the foreseeable future. He kissed her forehead. "That's the easiest promise I've ever made."


	21. Chapter 21

Nick blinked his eyes open slowly. He stretched his arms overhead, feeling well-rested for the first time in weeks. He had slept well in spite of not sleeping as many hours as he needed to, no insomnia as his mind whirled, no nightmares to wake him when he finally fell asleep. He reached for Sabrina, his body sore in the good kind of way after a night of lovemaking.

His hand fell on empty sheets.

He pushed himself up on his elbows and looked around. His bedroom was empty, no sign of Sabrina or Dublin to be found. He sat up, intending to go in search of her, when he heard her soft footsteps and the click of Dublin's toenails making their way down the hall. He sat back against the headboard and waited.

"I thought you'd given me the slip, Spellman," he said when she appeared his in doorway. She was wearing his Penn State t-shirt again.

"I thought I was going to wake you with coffee," she countered, holding up a mug of coffee in each hand. "You might have gotten breakfast in bed, too, but you weren't kidding when you said you had cereal and not much else."

"I'll go grocery shopping today." He jerked his head. "Get over here with that coffee." She smiled and came to him. She sat down on the bed and held out his mug of black coffee. "You going to be able to drink that with no creamer?"

"I found some sugar and a can of evaporated milk in your pantry," she told him. "It's not an ideal situation, but it will get me through the morning."

"Creamer is on the grocery list," he assured her. He took a sip of his coffee. It always tasted better when Sabrina made it. "What do you do to the coffee to make it taste like this?"

"Taste like what?" she asked, sipping her own mug.

"This. I can't describe it, but it always tastes better when you make it."

"I measure out the appropriate amount, for one." She gave him a look. He rolled his eyes. He was infamous for spooning in an arbitrary amount of coffee, hitting the brew button, and drinking whatever resulted. "But I shake a little cinnamon into the grounds. It gives it a little extra flavor."

"I have cinnamon?" Nick asked. "I know why I have the milk – I thought I might try to make a chicken pot pie soup Nonna used to make and I never got around to it. But cinnamon?"

"I have a bottle in my bag," Sabrina confessed. "I use it when I brew coffee at the paper, but I keep it on my person because otherwise, Hunter will shake it on everything that passes his lips."

"Corkscrews, cinnamon… I'm starting to think that bag of yours is a bottomless pit."

"You should try finding my keys when you're in a hurry," she quipped, making him smile.

He watched her for a few moments, her blonde hair messy, her face makeup free. This was his favorite way to be with her – just them, no pretenses, no guards up, no outside interferences. He could stay like this with her forever, if the world would just allow it. He nudged her with the toe of his good foot.

"Are we okay?" he asked carefully.

"We're okay," Sabrina confirmed with slight smile. She grew serious quickly, however. "Nick, I have to help with the case. I can't sit idle, waiting for something to happen under the watchful eye of you, Ambrose, or some other cop. I need to be doing something to help."

"Sabrina," Nick sighed. He had known it would come to this. She didn't have it in her to let someone else fight her battles. He loved that about her until he was the one trying to fight on her behalf.

"You've done a lot of research, right?" she pressed on. "And you have more to do?"

"I told you, you can look at what we've done anytime…"

"I'm really good at research, Nick," she pushed on. "I'm also fast. I know how to pull what I'm looking for, how to cross-reference databases. I'm sure my ability to cite a source isn't necessary, but I can do that, too. Let me help with the research. They are my father's cases, after all. If anyone can find something in them, it's me – a Spellman. A Spellman that happens to know how to scan a lot of documents quickly and accurately."

He considered her proposition. She wasn't wrong. She was good at research. She did it all the time, almost daily, for her articles. And Edward Spellman was her father. He may have passed when she was young, but she knew him better than any of the officers at the station, even Ambrose. Still, he wasn't sure he wanted Sabrina any more involved than she already was.

"I don't know," he hesitated, buying himself time to make the right decision.

"Think about it, Nick," she continued. "If I'm doing research on the cases, I'll be at the station. What safer place to be right now than at the police station…" She gazed at him innocently. "With you?"

He sighed. She knew what she was doing – pulling on exactly the right strings to get him to agree. And he was powerless to stop her.

"How long have you been awake plotting your coup d'état?" he asked.

"An hour or so," she admitted with a shrug of one shoulder. "But you have to admit, it's a good idea. And, we both win. I get to help, you get to keep me within arm's reach. Really, you're getting the most benefit here because my research skills will help with solving the case."

"You can stop your sales pitch," he said. "You've convinced me." Sabrina broke into the biggest smile he had seen from her in days. That alone made agreeing worth it. "I have to clear it with Ambrose first, though, so don't go headlong into it…"

"Don't worry about Ambrose," she dismissed with a wave of her hand. "I'll handle him."

"I will handle Ambrose," Nick countered with a pointed look. "There is protocol, policies and procedures we have to follow. It's one thing for me to show you research. It's another for me to allow you to participate in it on an active case, especially a high profile one."

"Fine," Sabrina agreed. "But – you'll talk to him today?"

"I'll talk to him today," Nick confirmed. "I'm not calling him right this second, but I'll talk to him this morning."

"Thank you," Sabrina said. "For agreeing."

"You really sealed the deal on the part where you'll be at the station," Nick admitted. "But I also know you're going to dig into the research whether I agree or not, so it's easiest just to say yes." Sabrina's guilty smile told him he was right. "Think I can get a good morning kiss now that you've successfully gotten yourself a position on the case team?"

She moved forward and leaned in to kiss him. He let his lips linger, kissed her again before she pulled away. She settled in beside him, leaning against the headboard.

"I love you, Spellman," he told her.

"I don't like that I can't say it back," she informed him.

"I know," he said. He dropped a kiss on her shoulder. "I need this, though." He raised his eyes to her. "But I know you do. I can feel it."

She leaned in and kissed him once, twice, three times. He smiled and kissed her back, a single sweet kiss.

"For the record, researching without your consent was plan C," she told him once he settled back against the headboard. "I had a plan B."

"Dare I ask what that was?" Nick wondered as he lifted his coffee to his lips.

"Sex," Sabrina answered easily. Nick nearly spit out his coffee. "I was pretty confident I could convince you to agree if I played my cards just right."

"What time is it?" he asked, catching her off guard.

"A little after seven," she answered as he took her coffee from her and placed both mugs on the nightstand. "Why?"

"I've got court at nine," he told her. "I wrote a DUI a few weeks ago, and now, in the middle of all of this, I have to deal with it before the judge this morning." He slipped an arm around her. "I should be early on the docket so I can get the hell out of there and back to this murder case. Perks of being nice to Prudence." Sabrina rolled her eyes. "I'll talk to Ambrose about you doing research afterward." She squealed as he suddenly used his strength to pull her into his lap so she was straddling him. She quickly learned he was still naked under the blankets. "But I've got some time…"

"How would you like to use that time, Detective Scratch?" Sabrina asked, eyes dancing. His bedroom was like a cocoon, the rest of the world far away and unable to touch them. She would happily stay there as long as they could. He tugged on the t-shirt she wore.

"I suspect this shirt of being stolen," he told her.

"That's a very serious accusation," she replied. "You should investigate."

"I'm going to need to look at the evidence." His hands snaked under the shirt. He pulled it off in one smooth movement. She wore nothing under it. "You're definitely guilty, Spellman.'

"Haw are you going to prove it, Scratch?" she asked, a temptress if he had ever met one. He thought he was right in his early assumption that there was a vixen inside of Sabrina, waiting for the right person to release it. "I'm innocent until proven guilty."

"I'm going to have to be thorough with my investigation." He pulled her closer. She could feel him, knew he wanted her as much a she wanted him. He grazed his lips across her shoulder. "Can't leave an inch of you unsearched." She shivered in his arms in anticipation. He pushed the blanket off him.

"I swear I'm innocent, Detective," she said, letting her fingers trail over his chest. Just her touch was enough to undo him. "I'd never steal." He smirked.

"You're as guilty as they come, Spellman," he stated, guiding her onto him. "And I'm going to prove it."

* * *

She read through the case file in her hands with sharp eyes. Some of her father's cases were difficult to read. Violent deaths. Horrible descriptions. But they were his words, and she had never seen them before. With each page, she felt closer to him. She had been a toddler when her parents died, had no memories of them other than what her aunts told her. His files – his words – were like looking into his mind. She couldn't get enough

"My dad was brilliant," she said to herself after finishing the conclusion of a kidnapping he had solved.

"What was that?" Nick asked. He sat across the conference room at his makeshift desk, his booted foot propped up, his tactical vest on as promised. She had to work to remind herself he was working every time she caught a glimpse of him, all business, all focus.

"My dad was brilliant," she said again, pushing down thoughts of locking the conference room door and seducing Nick. "I just finished reading a case he solved about a girl kidnapped from her grandmother's house in Philadelphia by a man wanted for a long list of felonies."

"Sheena Moab?" Nick asked. "That was one of his more brilliant solves, the way he used DNA from a cookie found at the scene to identify the suspect, then closed in on him with routine traffic stops and standard neighborhood patrols. No one would have thought to test a cookie for DNA back then. Edward was well ahead of his time. The fact that the girl was still alive was a miracle."

"I'm pretty sure this kidnapper isn't our guy," she said, sitting the file aside.

Nick smiled just slightly. Sabrina had spent most of the last two days in the conference room with him, flying through first the research they had already done and filling in the blanks, now making her way through one case after another that they hadn't gotten to yet. She had picked up some of their lingo, took her role very serious, had proven to be efficient, helpful. He found it sexy and was damned glad their relationship was physical now. They had barely made it through his front door the night before, and she had slipped into the shower with him that morning.

"I like having you here," he told her, because they were all alone at the moment. "You're cute, all focused and using cop lingo."

"You're just trying to get me into bed this evening," she replied, pretending to go back to her research.

"I haven't heard you protesting, Spellman." She glanced at him. He had that self-satisfied smirk on his face she knew all too well.

"I think I'll sleep at the mortuary tonight," she said casually. "I haven't really seen my aunts in a few days. My cat is there. My clothes, shoes…"

"Go right ahead," Nick said, eyes on the file in his hand. "I'll join you there. I haven't had Hilda's cooking in a week. But remember you made that choice when we go to bed fully clothed."

She narrowed her eyes at him.

"You're wicked, Scratch."

"You're a tease, Spellman." He shuffled the paper he was reading to the back of the stack. "You know I won't do anything with your aunts down the hall and I believe I have more willpower than you do in certain areas. Only one of us will go to bed frustrated, and it won't be me."

The dirty look she gave him made him laugh. They both knew he was right.

"What are you looking at anyway?" She stood and crossed the room to him. She came behind him and placed a hand on his shoulder. "You haven't moved in an hour." She let a hand drift down his chest. "Forensics?"

"Forensics," he confirmed. "I got Tommy Kinkle's more full, detailed report in from the lab in New York this morning." He glanced up at her. "You know, if you would let me take this vest off, that move you're trying to pull would be a hell of a lot more effective."

"Tough luck, Scratch." She moved around him and perched on his desk. "You find this killer, then you can take the vest off."

"This thing weighs like 10 pounds," he complained. "I don't see why I can't take it off when I'm sitting at my desk…"

"You promised," she reminded him.

"I did," he sighed. "I'm tattling like a two year old if I walk into Ambrose's office and he's not wearing his."

"Please do. I'll handle it." Nick smiled in amusement. She used the toe of her boot to lightly tape his thigh three times. His smile grew. He used his hand to squeeze her thigh four times in response. "I'm saying those words the moment you cuff this person," she informed him.

"I've got plenty incentive to arrest him," he said, eyes going back to the report in front of him. "Want to know what this says?"

"Of course."

"It confirms what we know, which is that the gun was a rifle. Looks to be a .270 Winchester with a 130 grain bullet." Sabrina had no idea what that meant, but it seemed to make sense to Nick. "It's a gun used for hunting game, accurate out to 400 yards if sighted in well, although some ballistics charts say 500. Tommy looks to have been shot from approximately 200 years, maybe a little closer.

"There are no signs of struggle, which I already knew," he continued. "No fibers, no hairs, nothing helpful in that aspect found on the body. No drugs, but he had a fair amount of alcohol in his system. If I'd pulled him over, I would have arrested him for a DUI."

"Their family has a history of alcoholism," Sabrina supplied. "Mr. Kinkle has been sober for years, but he was a raging alcoholic when we were in high school. Their grandfather, too, had a drinking problem."

"I tracked Tommy down to a bar in Riverdale. It sounds like he was a pretty frequent visitor there after work. Like I said, there's nothing DNA-wise to go off. He was killed from a distance, so the murderer likely didn't come near him, hence the lack of it. We did find a footprint out in the woods, but so far, we haven't been able to do more than track them down to a cheap pair of boots one would buy at a big box discount store. It would mean everything if we had a POI, but since we don't, it's just one more question mark."

"You're saying you don't have anything useful," Sabrina deciphered.

"Unfortunately," he admitted. He dropped the file to his desk. "There are plenty of fibers, fingerprints, stuff like that, but they're all his, Harvey's, or Mr. Kinkle's. There was a hair that gave me a moment of hope, but it was traced to a girl he's been seeing on and off and she was confirmed to be at home, sleeping soundly."

"Another dead end," Sabrina mused.

"Whoever is doing this is going to mess up," Nick told her. "He can't stay perfect. They all mess up eventually."

Sabrina swung her legs back and forth, thinking.

"Can I throw a thought out there?"

"Can I stop you?" Nick countered. Sabrina gave him a look that made him smile.

"What about your past cases? Could there be someone connected to you that's doing this? It would make sense. I'm your girlfriend. What better way to hurt you than through me?"

"I've thought of that," Nick admitted. He pointed to two boxes stacked by his desk. "These are some of my case files. You're free to go through them. I have. So has Craig. But so far, none of them are leading us to this guy. But I don't think it's someone connected to my past. But remember, there was no sign of forced entry at the Wardwells or the library. Angela and Blackwood died in public places, so it's a harder argument to make and Tommy was killed at home, in a way that leads me to believe whoever is doing this had been staking out the place, learning what they thought was Harvey's patterns."

"You still think its someone we know," Sabrina concluded.

"I do," Nick confirmed. "Someone the Wardwells and Cassius knew and trusted enough to let them in their home and office."

"That doesn't explain why the Wardwells' door was locked," Sabrina pondered. "Or the library, for that matter, if there weren't any fingerprints."

"It doesn't," Nick shook his head. "The library doors were so full of fingerprints we couldn't get an ID if we wanted to. Same at the church and bell tower. The Wardwells – any fingerprints that weren't theirs were accounted for."

"It all feels so impossible right now," Sabrina said.

"We'll figure it out," Nick promised her. "He will mess up. I know he will." He just hoped it wasn't too late. He leaned forward and took the ice pack from his foot. "I think its looking better."

Sabrina surveyed his foot. It was still black and blue and a little swollen.

"I think it still looks like you need to stay off of it," she informed him. "I saw you trying to walk on it without a boot last night."

"From the living room to the kitchen," he reminded her. "That should be doable."

"It might have been if you would have followed doctor's orders from the start."

"I have had other things on my mind," he reminded her.

There was a knock on the conference room door before she could retort. Dublin sat up from where she had been napping on a dog bed in the corner and let out a low growl. It opened a moment later and Harvey stepped through.

"Officer Kinkle," Nick greeted with a professional tone. "What brings you by?" He thought the officer was out for at least another two weeks on personal leave.

"Just – checking in," Harvey answered. "Any updates on the case?"

Sabrina willed Nick to have some compassion.

"We got the full forensics report back this morning," Nick answered, aware that Sabrina expected him to behave. "I'm reading through it now. You and your dad will be among the first to know if anything comes out of it that we can use."

Sabrina tapped his leg with her toe again, once this time, to let him know she appreciated his response. It was vague, but it didn't tell Harvey there wasn't anything new – it allowed him to keep believing that the person who killed his brother would be caught.

"I wouldd appreciate that," Harvey replied, hands shoved deep in his pockets.

Nick's phone rang out.

"It's Ambrose," he said. "Hang on." He answered the phone. "Scratch." Sabrina watched as his expression changed to one of annoyance. "Can't that wait?" he asked. He sighed at whatever Ambrose said. "Fine. I'll come up." He hung up and reached for the crutches propped nearby. "I need to go up to Ambrose's office and sign off on some paperwork before he sprouts two heads." He got himself to his feet, then tucked his crutches under his arms. "You'll be okay down here?" he asked Sabrina.

"I'll be fine," Sabrina answered patiently. Both of them were working to maintain the boundaries they had agreed to. She had agreed to let Nick provide protection, but with the caveat that he didn't interfere with her day-to-day life. "I'm going to go back to my research."

"I won't be long," he said as he crutched away a few steps. Sabrina knew he didn't love the idea of leaving her alone with Harvey. In spite of everything else, he still had some insecurities when it came to her relationship with her ex.

"Hey," she stopped Nick with a hand on his arm. He looked at her questioningly. She slid her hand down to take his and squeezed it three times. He smiled.

"I love you, too." He leaned in to kiss her quickly, then crutched out of the room, looking a little smug, if Sabrina gauged correctly.

"It really is serious between you and Scratch," Harvey commented once he was gone.

"Just like it is between you and Roz," Sabrina reminded him. She reached to scratch Dublin who had come to her with Nick's departure.

"I'm not trying to imply anything," Harvey shook his head. "Scratch – he seems like he really cares about you." He shoved his hands in his pockets. "Judging by what I just heard, I'd even say he loves you."

"He does," Sabrina nodded. "And I love him. He doesn't let me say it, but we've worked out a system."

"Doesn't let you say it?" Harvey questioned. "I've never known you to be the kind not to follow through on something you want to do."

"It's complicated," Sabrina said with a shake of her head. "He knows I love him. I tell him through other means, but he asked me not to say the words until this killer is off the streets."

"Yet he can say it to you?"

"Like I said, Harvey, it's complicated. But I respect Nick's wishes." It was time to change the subject. She had already told him too much. "Is everything set for Tommy's funeral tomorrow?"

"As set as it can be," Harvey sighed. "I'm actually on my way to the mortuary to view his body. I'm meeting my dad there."

"I'm so sorry, Harvey..."

"Please, Sabrina, don't apologize again," Harvey said. "This isn't your fault."

"Knowing it and believing it are two different things," Sabrina admitted. "Really, Harvey, if there is anything we can do…"

"We as in you and your aunts?" he asked. "Or you and Scratch? Because honestly, Sabrina, no one in either of those equation is my biggest fan, especially Scratch."

"Things change," Sabrina told him. "My aunts have never disliked you, they just took my side in our breakup. And you and Nick will never be best friends, but he's a good guy and if he thought he could help you, he would."

"He can help me by solving this case," Harvey stated.

"He's doing everything he can," Sabrina said. "He will figure this out, Harvey. I know he will."

"Here's to hoping," Harvey said, taking a few steps in her direction. Dublin came closer to Sabrina, her eyes on Harvey, big ears pointed. "Does he have anything at all? An idea of who is doing this?"

"He's making progress," Sabrina said diplomatically.

"You sure about that?" Harvey took a few steps closer. A low growl issued from Dublin.

"Nein!" Sabrina hissed, before turning her attention back to Harvey. "Nick has been working nonstop. He hasn't taken a day off in weeks. He was even working from his couch the day of his accident. He gets up in the middle of the night to make notes, leaves before breakfast, doesn't come home until well after dinner. He's determined to solve this case, Harvey. And he will."

"I know he's working around the clock," Harvey amended. "He never leaves this place." He took a couple of steps more. "I'm just going to look at the forensics report on Tommy…"

"Harvey, I don't think that's a good idea…"

"Tommy is – was – my brother. I deserve to know what's in that file."

"That's police evidence…"

"I'm a cop," Harvey pointed out.

"But you're not on this case. I'm sure there's something in the policies and procedures that says an officer can't be involved in an investigation involving their family members."

"Sabrina, please…" He made to reach around her for the file on Nick's desk.

"Harvey, don't…"

Dublin leapt to her feet, teeth bared, and let out several deep barks, positioning her body between Sabrina and Harvey and by circumstance, the file he wanted.

"Dublin!" Sabrina cried out. "Nien! Platz !"

Harvey froze in place, eyes wide with fear. Dublin continued to bark, her hackles raised, teeth bared, eyes set on Harvey.

"Sabrina! Call her off!"

"Dublin!" She put a hand through the harness the dog wore, trying to bring her back under control. She could feel the dog's strength. If Dublin lunged, she would be powerless to stop her. "Nien!"

"Lass es!"

Nick's voice boomed across the room. Dublin immediately stopped barking and backed away from Harvey.

"Heir!" he ordered. She came to him. "Sitz!" She sat. "Blieb!" He swung across the room on his crutches, leaving Dublin to look after him. "You okay, Officer Kinkle?"

"What the hell, Scratch?" Harvey demanded. "That dog was going to eat me alive."

"She was protecting Sabrina," Nick corrected. "My guess is you got too close to her for Dublin's comfort."

"I reached for Tommy's forensic report," Harvey confessed. "Sabrina was telling me to leave it alone. I guess the dog took her side."

"You know you can't be on this case," Nick said, trying to sound more patient than he felt. "Not now that your brother is a victim. You know the policies."

"I just want to know what's going on," Harvey sighed.

"Nick will tell you what you need to know," Sabrina said, eager to end the conversation. "Right, Nick?"

"I will," he nodded. "I haven't finished with that forensics report. I'll update you and your dad when I know more."

"Fine," Harvey said. "I should get going, don't want to be late to meet my dad." He eyed Dublin across the room. She hadn't moved from where Nick left her, but her sharp eyes took in their every move. "She's not going to…?"

"She'll stay where she is," Nick said with confidence.

"Let us know if you need anything," Sabrina offered again. "We'll see at the funeral tomorrow." Harvey only nodded. Sabrina waited until he closed the door behind him to look at Nick. "Nicholas…"

"What?" he asked, hearing the warning in her tone. "I was nice…"

"I'm not talking about Harvey," she shook her head. "You've got that dog watching me again, don't you?"

"No," Nick answered. "I swear. But, I do think Dublin has decided you're her second."

"Her second?"

"She's my dog," Nick explained. "I'm her handler. But sometimes, a K9 will have a secondary handler to take over if the primary handler is neutralized. Dublin has never been trained to have a second, but she seems to have attached herself to you." He smiled a little guilty. "I don't hate that."

"I'm sure you don't," Sabrina quipped. "So what does being her second mean?"

"It means she will listen to you, but if I were to give her a command, she's going to defer to me. Watch – call her to you."

"Dublin, heir!" Dublin trotted to Sabrina. "Good girl," she praised. "Sitz!" Dublin did as instructed. She looked at Nick. "What now?"

"Stay put." He swung himself across the room. "Heir!" Dublin dutifully went to his side. "Sitz!" She sat. "Blieb!" He looked to Sabrina. "Now, call her to you."

"Dublin!" Sabrina called. "Heir!" Dublin didn't move. "Heir!" The dog looked at Nick and whined a bit, but still didn't move. "Dublin, heir!" She stayed put. "Nick!"

Nick chuckled.

"Annoyed?" he asked.

"A little," she admitted. "I thought Dublin and I had something." He chuckled again.

"Voran!" he directed.

Dublin crossed the room to Sabrina. She knelt to greet the dog.

"Now you show up," she muttered. Dublin licked her face. Nick joined them. He moved his crutches to one side and perched on the desk, careful to keep weight off his foot.

"If anyone else tried any of those commands, she would give them a blank stare," he said with confidence. "She chose you, Sabrina." He caught her hand in his as she stood. "I daresay she's decided you're going to stick around for a while."

"I plan to," Sabrina replied. They both heard the weight of her words. She didn't just plan to stay with Nick for a long time to come – she planned to live.

"I certainly don't plan on letting you go anywhere," Nick told her. She kissed him, then perched beside him. "I've never seen Dublin act like that, though," he pondered her behavior. "She's been protective of me in the past, but only when it was called for. She did struggle transitioning to civilian life instead of serving, had a few overprotective moments, but she never bared her teeth at someone for no reason."

"To be fair, Harvey and I were sort of arguing. I knew you wouldn't him to see that file. He reached for it and Dublin put herself between us and started barking. She wouldn't listen to me, though."

"She wouldn't have attacked without a command," Nick said. "She felt you were threatened, though, and she acted." He reached down to scratch Dublin between the ears. "I really don't hate that."

"Your dog is doing your dirty work without you even asking," Sabrina surmised. "Only you, Scratch."

"My dog is keeping the most important person in my life safe," Nick countered. "Sorry, beautiful, but even you can't stop her from doing what's in her nature." He kissed her. "Okay. Back to work."

He left his crutches propped against the desk and tried to put some weight on his foot as he walked around the desk to his chair. He sat himself down and propped his foot back on his stool with a wince he couldn't quite hide from Sabrina.

"I'll give it a 6 out of 10," he declared. "Down from a solid 8 out of 10 on the pain scale this morning."

"So that means it's at least an eight right now," Sabrina interpreted. "You didn't hide the limping as well as you think you did. And you were at a full 10 this morning." She slipped off the desk. "More ice and a round of pain killers, coming right up. Need anything else while I'm in the break room?"

"Coffee?" Nick requested. He had accepted that there was no point in arguing with Sabrina over his foot. "I can make it up and down the stairs pretty well on my crutches, but I can't quite manage carrying coffee."

"Why don't I go to Cee's and get us coffee?" she suggested.

"The break room coffee is fine…"

"Nick."

Sabrina raised an eyebrow. He caught himself. It was part of their deal, that he wouldn't try to stop her from doing her day-to-day routine. He didn't like it – he would much prefer to keep her locked in the conference room with him all day – but he had to accept it.

"Tell Cee hello for me," he amended.

"I'll be right back."

She held out her hand. He took it and accepted her three squeezes. He squeezed back four times, then kissed the back of her hand. The familiar sense of anxiety settled into the pit of his stomach as he watched her exit the room. It would stay there until she was back in his arms, safe and sound. He absentmindedly scratched Dublin behind the ear.

"You don't like Kinkle much, huh?" he asked the dog. She let out a soft whine and looked after Sabrina. "Me either." He watched her ears rotate as she listened. He could hear Sabrina's voice, talking to someone in the hall. "You want to go with her?" Dublin whined again. He chuckled. He clipped her leash to her halter and looped it over her so it didn't drag the floor. "Voran."

Dublin took off, following the scent of Sabrina. Nick grinned to himself as he picked up Tommy's file once more. She would give him a hard time when she got back for sending Dublin to protect her, all while making sure he packed ice around his foot and took the ibuprofen she would put on his desk. He would complain a little, just to ruffle her feathers, tell her he loved her, kiss her again, and get back to work.

He found his spot in the report and resumed reading.

Something told him he was close to a break. He hadn't found it yet, but he was close. He just had to keep pushing forward.

Sabrina's life – and in turn, his own – depended on it.


	22. Chapter 22

"I'm glad we did this," Roz declared.

"Me too," Sabrina agreed.

"Me three," Theo echoed. "I wish Harvey would have joined us, though."

"He needs to be with his dad," Roz said. "We will do this again. Soon. With Harvey."

The three of them sat around Theo's living room, a near empty charcuterie board on the coffee table, three empty wine glasses nearby. Tommy's funeral had taken place earlier in the day, and this was their way of saying goodbye one last time, of comforting one another. Sabrina wished she could confide in them about the killer's true intentions, but she had promised Nick she would keep it quiet – and they had enough on their minds without her worrying them, too.

"How is he doing?" Theo asked Roz. "I don't buy his 'I'm okay' line for a minute."

"He's having a really hard time," Roz shared with her friends. "When I stopped by last night, he was just sitting in Tommy's room, staring at the wall. It was like he had left his body and was somewhere else." She sighed. "He hasn't quite been himself in a while, though. I think seeing a few of the bodies – Cassius, Angela, Blackwood – has really messed with him. Before that, even, given that he worked the girls' accident."

"I only have to close my eyes to see Cassius' body," Sabrina shared. "It's not an easy thing to get over, and then his brother…"

"How does Nick do it?" Theo asked. "He seems unaffected by it all."

"Nick has seen a lot in his career," Sabrina answered. "He tells me he's really good at compartmentalization, but I know some cases hit him harder than others. He had a hard time with the girls' deaths."

She didn't tell them that Nick had nightmares more often than not. He didn't always wake her up, but she could tell the next morning if he slept well or not. He was always a little extra affectionate, too, when his dreams had been haunted the night before, as though seeking comfort from her presence. She was happy to provide it.

It occurred to her then that it had been a few days since she had slept alone, or even at the mortuary. She didn't hate it, and she didn't think Nick had objections either.

"How about we shift away from murder into what I hope you two will think of as good news?" Theo suggested timidly.

"That sounds brilliant," Roz said. Sabrina nodded her agreement. Theo took a deep breath.

"So, it might have taken a really long time, but I am, officially, dating Billy Marlin."

"Theo!" Sabrina exclaimed, genuinely excited. "That's incredible!" She leaned across the sofa to hug her friend sitting beside her. "I'm so happy for you!"

"Theo, that's such good news," Roz echoed, reaching for her own hug. "How long? Tell us everything!"

Theo divulged the details, about how he and Billy just kept coming back into one another's lives over the years, how Billy struggled with his own sexual identity and one day, a couple of months ago, declared he loved Theo and wanted a relationship. They had kept it to themselves until recently, to see how if worked out, but now they felt sure they were on solid ground. They had come clean to Billy's parents just the day before and Theo was still surprised they had been so accepting.

"I'm so happy for you, Theo," Sabrina said again, meaning every word. "You deserve all the happiness in the world."

"Dare I say all three of us are in happy relationships?" Roz asked, her eyes drifting to Sabrina. Their relationship was still tender. She didn't want to cross a line. Sabrina smiled at her and nodded.

"We're all in happy relationships," she confirmed. "Things worked out how they were meant to." She played with the bangle Nick had given her. She wore it every single day. "Nick… He's everything I could want. He's got a bit of an edge, and he can certainly go toe-to-toe in an argument, but he's different with me. Gentler. He loves me, you know? It's in everything he does, whether he's saying the words or humoring me when I put another ice pack on the foot he doesn't take care of."

"Things really did work out how they should," Theo agreed. "I don't always believe in that kind of stuff, fate, things like that, but it really does seem like we all ended where we should be."

They all took a moment to take a breath and appreciate where they were right then, together, happy. Each of them recognized how fragile life was, how it could all fall apart in the blink of an eye. The gratitude in the room was palpable.

"I should get going," Roz said, breaking the peaceful moment as she checked the time. "I told my dad I would stop by tonight. I've spent so much time with Harvey these last few days that I haven't really seen him. Now that he's getting older…"

They exchanged rounds of hugs and promises to talk to one another soon.

"I should get going, too," Sabrina said not long after Roz departed. "Nick is still at the station – no surprise there – and Dublin has been at home alone for a while now. I'm sure she needs a bathroom break. I need to get gas and stop at the grocery store, too – I used the last of Nick's coffee this morning, and trust me when I say Greendale doesn't want its only detective decaffeinated."

"You could have brought Dublin with you," Theo said. "I don't mind her."

"She hates Harvey," Sabrina confessed. "I didn't know if he was coming and I figured with everything, I should leave the dog. We took her home before the funeral so she wasn't sitting around the station."

"I think you love the dog more than you love Nick," Theo teased.

"I certainly like her more sometimes," Sabrina quipped. She reached for her bag. "I'll see you soon."

"Before you go…"

Sabrina heard a note of worry in Theo's tone.

"What is it?" she asked. "Is everything okay?"

"With me, yes," Theo confirmed. "But Sabrina, I'm worried about Harvey."

"We all are," Sabrina said. "He lost his brother. You know how close they were. And Roz is right – he has seen a lot and between us, we both know Harvey is soft-hearted. He's fine being a cop as long as its parking violations and speeding tickets, but murder? That's not in his wheelhouse."

"He said some weird things yesterday," Theo pressed. "I was with him after he and Mr. Kinkle viewed Tommy's body. Harvey kept mumbling about his mother, about how she killed his brother…"

"His mom died years ago, when we were really young," Sabrina reminded him. "We were too little to understand death."

"I know," Theo sighed. "We were in kindergarten, right?" Sabrina nodded confirmation. "But what was he talking about, how she killed his brother?"

"Grief makes people say and do weird things," Sabrina said. "Roze told us he hasn't been sleeping well and he's trying to process a lot. All we can do is be his friend and try to help him through this."

"I guess," Theo sighed. He looked at her with worry. "What about you? How are you doing? You found Cassius, were close to the victims. Your boyfriend is up to his eyeballs trying to solve this case…"

"Honestly, I don't think I've really processed anything," Sabrina admitted, appreciating at Theo was a counselor and it was in his nature to ask the right questions. "It's just been one thing after another. The girls, the murders… Now I'm helping with the investigation…"

"Wait, what?" Theo interrupted. Sabrina realized her mistake. "You're helping?"

"Just with some research," Sabrina explained, trying to sound casual. "I'm good at it, and Nick doesn't know Greendale like I do." She smirked a little. "Plus, I get to watch Nick work, and the whole detective thing is pretty sexy."

"I can certainly see that," Theo agreed. "I'll walk out with you. I need to go feed the animals and close up the barn for the night."

"Thanks for having us over," Sabrina said in the driveway. "It was good, the three of us being together again. I wish Harvey would have joined us, but I think being with his dad was far more important."

"We need to do it more often," Theo said. "And Sabrina? If you need someone to talk to, I'm here for you. Always."

"I know," Sabrina said. "Same goes for you, Theo." She leaned in for a hug before they went their separate ways.

It was already dark, the fog thick, the weather cold. It was spitting a mix of rain, snow, and sleet, not enough to make a mess of things, but enough to be annoying. It was fitting for the mood of the town. Thanksgiving was just two days away, but no one felt much like celebrating. She certainly didn't.

She glanced in her window, looking for the officer she was sure was following her. She didn't see them, but it didn't mean they weren't there. She couldn't always spot them, but she knew they were tailing, doing Nick and Ambrose's bidding. She passed the turnoff to Nick's house and pulled into the gas station nearby. An unmarked cop car pulled in a few moments later.

"Mann today, then," she said to herself as she quickly filled her tank, shivering in the inclement weather.

Her stop at the grocery store was quick. She picked up a bag of Nick's favorite coffee beans and selected two muffins from the display case in the bakery. She noted the lack of crowd, a telling sign that everyone was heeding the Greendale PD's advice to stay in doors after dark. She herself hurried a little more than she normally would, walking at a brisk pace through the poorly lit parking lot to get to the safety of her warm, dry car.

She was a mile from Nick's house when her phone rang out. It was Nick.

"Hi," she greeted.

"Where are you?" he demanded. She frowned at his tone. There was a lot of noise on his end of the phone.

"I'm almost to your house," she answered. "I just left Theo's, but I had to get gas and go to the grocery store. Why?"

"Pull over."

"What?" Something in her tone scared her. "Nick, what's going on?"

"Pull over," Nick said again. "Sabrina, do it."

"Hold on." She pulled to the shoulder and put on her blinkers. Her heart pounded in her ears as her anxiety rose. "Okay. I'm off the road. Start talking, Scratch."

"Sabrina, Theo Putnam has been shot…"

She couldn't speak. She could barely breath.

"No…"

"He's still alive," Nick told her hurriedly. "I'm with Ambrose. We're on our way to his farm. Theo is already en route to the hospital. He was able to call for help. But right now, I need you to get to my house and…"

"No," Sabrina interrupted. "I'm going to the hospital." She turned off her blinkers and put her car in drive.

"Sabrina, listen to me…" She could hear Ambrose in the background, barking orders at someone over a radio.

"I'm going to the hospital, Nick. Theo is my friend, and he doesn't have any family here. I'm going to be with him."

"Fine," Nick sighed. "Go to the hospital. But Sabrina, do not leave that building, do you understand me? I'll be there as soon as I can. I need to question Theo. But you do not leave under any circumstances, got it?"

"I'm not leaving Theo," she told him as she pulled back onto the road. Reality hit her then. "Oh God. Nick. The murderer. He was there, wasn't he?" Her voice rose an octave. "When Roz and I were at Theo's? He was there?"

"Looks that way," Nick confirmed gravely. "Please, Sabrina, just – get to the hospital." There was no mistaking the worry in his voice. "Get inside as fast as you can and do not leave."

"I won't," she assured him, her heart thundering.

"I'll be there as soon as I can," he repeated. She heard his anxiety, felt his adrenaline. A voice crackled over a walkie talkie on his end. "There are eyes on you," he sighed in relief. She saw Mann's unmarked car in her review mirror, no longer making an effort to remain out of sight. "It's Officer Mann. He will stay with you at the hospital. Go straight there. No detours. We're putting up roadblocks all over town. No one gets in, no one gets out. Not until we've searched every inch of this place."

The magnitude of the situation settled in around her.

"Nick, please, be careful…"

"I will," he promised her. "I've got my vest on. So does Ambrose. I'll see you soon. Don't leave that hospital until I'm with you."

"Nick…"

"I love you, too," he told her. "I'll see you soon."

* * *

"Sabrina!"

"Agatha! Where is…"

"Theo is stable," she answered quickly. "He's in room 15, just down the hall." Sabrina made to go to him. Agatha grabbed her by the hand. "I'm glad you're here," she said. "Theo is going to be okay. He was lucky. But he shouldn't be alone."

Sabrina squeezed Agatha's hand, a rare show of affection between the two. She hurried to Theo. She found him in a hospital bed, groggy, but awake

"Theo!" she sighed in relief. Tears threatened her eyes. "How are you? What happened? Do you need anything?"

"Sabrina," Theo managed a tired smile. "I knew you would be the first one here."

"Nick called." She perched on the side of Theo's bed. "He was on his way to the farm. He's probably there by now."

"He was worried you were still there," Theo said knowingly. "I guess he's going to have questions for me?"

"You're his next stop," Sabrina confirmed. "What happened, Theo? Did you see the killer? Did he say anything?"

"We don't know it was the killer," Theo tried.

"It was," Sabrina said. "We both know that."

She knew it, even if Theo didn't want to admit it. The murderer had finally made the mistake Nick needed him to make. He had left a victim – one of her best friends – alive. At least, she hoped it was a mistake. She tried not to think of Nick and Ambrose, rushing to the scene, both of them hoping to confront the person that had been terrorizing the town for weeks. She tried not to think of the ambush scenario that had formed in her mind on her reckless drive to the hospital.

"I had just finished feeding the cows," Theo said. "I was closing up the doors on the back side when I heard footsteps. I thought it was you or Roz or even Harvey. Maybe one of you had forgotten something, or Harvey wanted company. But there was this person… It was like something in the movies. He was dressed in black, his face completely covered. Even his eyes. He had a gun in his hand, a pistol. He was tall, thin. He raised the gun and fired. The only thing I could think of was to fall to the ground. He got my arm," Theo indicated his upper arm which was bloody and heavily bandaged. "But I fell like I was dead. I played dead, Sabrina, and I just prayed it would work. He stood there for just a few seconds, I guess decided I was dead, and took off."

"Did he say anything?" Sabrina pressed. "Was there anything familiar about him?"

"I felt like I knew them," Theo admitted. "I don't know how, but they seemed familiar."

"Familiar how?"

"I don't know, Sabrina," Theo sighed. "I just – felt like I knew them." He eyed her. "Are you sure you're just doing research for Nick? Because you're acting like an investigator yourself…"

"I'm sorry," she shook her head. "It's the reporter in me."

There was a tap on the doorframe. A nurse Sabrina didn't recognize entered.

"We're going to move Mr. Putnam to a room for overnight observation," he said kindly. "Would you mind waiting down the hall for a few minutes?"

"Of course," Sabrina agreed. "Theo, I'll see you soon. Do you need anything?"

"Just stay out of trouble between now and then, Detective Spellman?" he teased, in surprisingly good spirits for what he had been through.

"Now who's sounding like Scratch?" she asked, trying to reciprocate his humor.

She made her way to the waiting room, checking her phone for any word from Nick. There was only a breaking news alert from her editor about the shooting. She texted back that she was with Theo, and considered sending Nick a text to check in. She knew he wouldn't reply, however. He would be completely invested in the investigation before him, and with Theo in stable condition, he would be at the hospital soon enough. She settled into a chair, noting Officer Mann hovering nearby, in flirty conversation with a nurse. She hoped for his sake that Nick didn't catch him – he would have Mann's head for not keeping his attention solely on her.

"Sabrina?"

She looked up from a group text with Zelda and Hilda who had both worriedly checked in on her and Theo's status.

"Mr. Kinkle! What are you doing here?"

He held up a heavily bandaged hand.

"Kitchen accident," he said. "I wanted something not out of a casserole dish, so I thought I would grill a couple of steaks for Harvey and I, but the knife I was planning to use to trim the fat caught me."

"Are you okay?" she asked.

"Five stitches and wounded pride," he said. "No major damage. I heard about Theo while I was being stitched up. How is he?"

"Miraculously okay," Sabrina answered. "He was shot in the arm and played dead to survive. He was lucky."

"I hope that boyfriend of yours catches the son of a bitch doing this to our town soon," he said. "It was personal, anyway, with the murders of our community members. I was friends with Cassius, thought highly of the Wardwells. But then he took my son away from me..."

"Nick is going to find who is doing this." She felt like a broken record, but she had total faith in Nick. "I know he is, Mr. Kinkle."

"Please, Sabrina, call me David," he said. "You have called me Mr. Kinkle for years – never understood it. You're like family, even if you and Harvey aren't together anymore."

"David," she repeated, trying out the name. "I don't know that I'll manage it – I've called you Mr. Kinkle my entire life – but I'll try."

"I should get home," he said. "I left Harvey in charge of grilling the steaks when I realized this won't no little scratch and he just sent me a photo of them fresh off the grill, so I reckon I'd better go eat with him. Tell Theo I'm glad he's okay. He's like a son to me – I don't know that I could lose another one. I've already lost two."

Sabrina frowned.

"Two?" she asked.

"Tommy and Harvey's younger brother, Morgan," David told her. He looked at her curiously. "You didn't know about Morgan?"

"I've never heard of Morgan," she shook her head. She felt like Theo and Roz hadn't either. She remembered Theo saying Harvey was talking about his mom and brother. It still didn't make sense, but she felt she was missing something major.

"Morgan died when Harvey was five, before you all started kindergarten" David explained. "An accident. He was only three. I guess Harvey barely remembers him, but I certainly do."

"I had no idea…" She was at a loss for words. The Kinkle family had been through so much. It didn't seem fair. "Harvey never mentioned…"

"Harvey doesn't handle hard things well," David said with a shake of his head. "He's a sensitive soul. I was hard on him when you all were growing up, didn't understand him, had my own issues. He was so young when his brother and mom… And now his other brother, the death he's seen… I suppose he's more Roz's concern now than yours, but I'm glad you two are friends again. He needs his friends right now."

"Like I told him, some things are bigger than what happened between us," Sabrina said. "I'm here for him – and you, too. So are my aunts. And Nick."

"Harvey doesn't like Detective Scratch," David admitted. "I guess that's natural, not to like the man that swooped in and swept your ex-girlfriend off her feet. But I like him. And while Harvey doesn't have a lot of faith in him actually solving this case, I do. I have to – he's my best shot at justice for my boy."

Sabrina saw Nick's job then as something so much bigger than catching the bad guy. He had said it himself – he got criminals off the street, but he also brought closure to families. She wanted that closure for the Kinkles, for all of the victims and their families.

"To be fair, Nick doesn't much like Harvey either," she confessed. "Hazards of Harvey being the ex-boyfriend, I guess. But I know he will do whatever he can - both to find this murderer, and to help you both in any way possible."

"Just keep yourself safe, Sabrina," David said. "Right now, none of us are safe."

He told Sabrina goodbye, leaving her to her thoughts.

Harvey had another brother. A brother who had died, apparently not long before his mother. She only vaguely remembered the days in kindergarten when Harvey's desk sat empty while he was home with his father and Tommy. She hadn't known what 'Harvey's mommy died' meant back then, but she did know it was a grown up problem and she had trusted the grown ups to handle it, her days largely uninterrupted by it all. She remembered the turkey handprint artwork on the walls, too, reminding her that it was around this time of year when it happened, and her aunts telling her to make sure she was nice to Harvey when he returned to school afterward because he would likely be sad.

Too curious for her own good, she took out the tablet she always carried with her.

_Morgan Kinkle Greendale _she typed into a search engine.

Only a handful of articles came up, the death occurring before newspapers were online. She briefly thought of Cassius and how he would be able to tell her so much more than she was able to find. She missed him intensely in that moment.

"Sabrina?" came Agatha's voice. "You can go see Theo now. Third floor, room 312."

"Thanks, Agatha," she said. She kept her eyes on the tablet, reading what she could find as she waited for the elevator, noting that both Officer Mann and the nurse had seemingly disappeared. She tapped through to another article, this one a little more detailed than the short obituary she had just read.

"I've been here two hours, and I'm already bored to tears," Theo announced as she walked in.

Sabrina didn't hear him as she took in the details on her screen, read them again to make sure she hadn't misunderstood.

"I have to go," she said, closing the cover on her tablet. "I'm sorry, Theo."

"Go?" Theo repeated. "Go where? You just walked in." She took in Sabrina's paled expression. "Is everything okay?"

"I need you to do something for me, Theo," she requested with a sense of urgency.

"I can try," Theo replied. "I'm hospitalized, having just been shot…" Sabrina ignored the sarcasm.

"When Nick gets here, I need you to tell him I love him," she instructed. "Take his hand, and squeeze it three times. Can you do that for me?"

"What's going on, Sabrina?" Theo asked, his own panic starting to show as he picked up the signals that something was wrong. "What's happening?"

"I love you," Sabrina told him. "Remember that, okay? I have to go…"

"Go where?" Theo pressed. "What's going on, Sabrina?"

"I have to go to the station," she said. "From there, I don't know yet. But just – tell Nick I love him, okay?"

She left before Theo could protest again.


	23. Chapter 23

Nick cursed as Sabrina's voicemail picked up for the third time. He didn't bother leaving a message – he had just left one – and ended the call.

"Still no answer?" Ambrose asked. He expertly swerved his police SUV around a car, his sirens blaring as he and Nick sped towards the hospital in hopes that Theo Putnam would hold the answers they needed to find the Scrabble Killer.

"No," Nick sighed. "I hope she's with Theo and ignoring her phone."

In the pit of his stomach though, he knew something was wrong. Sabrina never ignored phone calls, especially not from him, not right now when she knew he worried about her. If she couldn't answer, she would send a text, let him know she would call soon. The fact that he had called three time and she hadn't answered or texted was a red flag.

It felt like forever instead of mere minutes before Ambrose swung into the hospital parking lot. The SUV had barely rolled to a stop before Nick was getting out.

"You're going to risk facing Sabrina without crutches?" Ambrose asked as Nick hobbled as fast as his foot would allow him to the entrance. "Bold move, Scratch."

"I'm not worried about my foot right now or what Sabrina might have to say about it," he stated. "The crutches are slowing me down. I can't afford to move slow right now."

His foot was throbbing. He had ditched the crutches to walk the scene at the Putnam farm and he knew whenever he finally stopped moving for the day, he would find his foot swollen and possibly even blacker and bluer than it already was. He didn't care. He didn't have time to worry about it.

Officer Mann met them at the entrance.

"Where is Sabrina?" Nick demanded. He already knew the answer by the nervous expression on Mann's face.

"Detective…" Mann stammered. "Captain…"

"Where is my cousin?" Ambrose ordered. "Start talking, Mann."

"She's… Gone…"

"Gone?" Nick repeated. "Gone where? How in the hell did she get out of your line of sight in the first place? You're supposed to have surveillance on her!"

"Theo said something about the station," Mann offered half-heartedly. ""I… stepped away for a minute…" His tryst hadn't been worth it.

Nick let out a colorful cursed.

"What room is Theo in?" he asked, already heading towards the elevator.

"Third floor, 312," Mann answered. "I'm sorry, Detective, Captain… She slipped out…"

"I'll deal with you later," Ambrose stated. "We have to find Sabrina first."

"What's going on?" Mann asked. "Why is it so important to protect her? We're all in danger until we get this guy. Why is Sarina more of a priority than anyone? I'm missing something…"

The elevator arrived. Nick gruffly pushed Mann in. Ambrose jabbed the floor button.

"Sabrina is the killer's target," Nick said, abandoning all pretenses he had about keeping that fact quiet. They had found the last Scrabble piece at Theo's. Edward's name was complete. He had no doubts now that Sabrina was next. He had to get to the killer first. "He wants her, and she's almost certainly the next victim. And now we don't know where she is, thanks to you."

He erupted out of the elevator, moving faster than his foot was capable of. He entered Theo's room with purpose.

"Theo, what did she say?" he demanded without any pretenses. "When Sabrina left, what did she say?"

"She said to tell you she loves you," Theo said, not bothering with pleasantries. He could feel the gravity of Sabrina's disappearance, even if he didn't understand why. Officer Mann had nearly fainted when he realized Sabrina was gone minutes earlier. "And to squeeze your hand three times. Then she said something about going to the station and then somewhere else, but she didn't know where yet."

"How long ago did she leave?" Ambrose asked.

"Thirty minutes, maybe?" Theo answered. "It wasn't all that long ago."

"Theo, I'm going to send Officer Craig to ask you some questions." Nick talked fast. "I need to find Sabrina, but I'll have more for you. If she happens to come back, call me immediately, and do whatever you can to keep her in this room."

"Officer Mann, you stand guard outside of this room," Ambrose said as he and Nick exited. "Absolutely no one aside from medical staff, Craig, and Theo's immediate family enter. Do not leave your post for any reason. If you do, drop your badge on my desk. If I don't find my cousin soon, I will take it from you myself."

Nick called Sabrina again as he waited impatiently for the elevator.

"Spellman, you better have a damn good excuse for taking off like this," he said when her voicemail picked up. "Call me. Call Ambrose. Let us know where you are."

"Once she's safe, I'm going to kill her myself," Ambrose decided. "So help me…"

Nick ignored him. He was on his phone, ordering Officer Craig to interview Theo. He ended the call and dialed another number.

"Spriggs, it's Scratch. Take Jones and go to my place. See if Sabrina is there. Search the outside for any signs of entry, forced or otherwise. Dublin is there – if you need to enter, prepare yourself. She will likely try to attack. Stay calm, talk to her, give her a treat from the canister in the kitchen if you need to."

He hung up without further explanation. Ambrose was on his phone now.

"Has my cousin come through the station?" he asked whoever was on the other end of the line. He heaved a sigh of relief. "Don't let her leave. That's an order."

"She's there?" Nick asked.

"Lieutenant Sanchez said she rushed in about twenty minutes ago and went straight downstairs."

"I've got half a mind to put her in the holding cell for safe keeping," Nick said. "I have a feeling she and I are about to have a fight to end all fights, but I don't much care right now. She can't keep doing stuff like this. Not now. Not when she's almost certainly next."

Ambrose got them to the station at record speed. The building was largely quiet, nearly every officer out searching for the killer, collecting evidence at the Putnam farm, or monitoring roadblocks. They didn't break gait as they went down the stairs, Nick hopping down them on one foot. He threw open the conference room door.

It was empty.

"Sabrina!" he called for no other reason than he couldn't believe she wasn't there.

"I'll go check our offices," Ambrose said. He turned and ran for the stairs.

Nick went to his makeshift desk, hoping for some sign that Sabrina had been there, some clue as to where she may have gone next. A stack of papers clipped together waited for him. There was a hot pink post-it note stuck to it. The blue ink spiraled in Sabrina's clean cursive handwriting.

_Harvey. _

With a furrowed brow, Nick pulled the note off and scanned the papers. He had to steady himself on his desk.

"She's not up there," came Ambrose's voice. "Sanchez said he didn't see her leave, but she's clearly gone."

"It's Kinkle," Nick said, his mind trying to process what he had just learned – what Sabrina had figured out. "Kinkle is the killer."

"What?" Ambrose asked in confusion. "It can't be…"

"His mother went by a fake identity, Mary Pinewood, before she married David Kinkle, but her real name was Meredith Commingle, daughter of Jerry Commingle, the original Scrabble Killer. She's suspected of murdering an ex-boyfriend but it was never proven, and she went to jail for murdering her son – a three year old named Morgan Kinkle – twenty-five years ago. She's serving a life sentence."

"And Harvey is trying to avenge his mother…" Ambrose tried to understand.

"We have to find Sabrina." Nick's stomach flipped. He knew exactly what she was doing. "Get officers to Kinkle's house. Use your phone – that son of a bitch has been using his inside knowledge to thwart us this whole time." He tried Sabrina's phone again, knowing it was fruitless while Ambrose barked orders into his own phone. "Sabrina, I know what you're doing." His voice cracked. "Please. Please, don't do it. I'm on my way. I love you."

"Officers are on the way to the Kinkles," Ambrose said as they both ended their calls. "But it's Sabrina, Nick. She's thought of everything. She knows we will send officers the moment we find out its Kinkle."

"Her phone," Nick said, the idea coming to him as though divinely inspired.

"We can have her GPS tracked," Ambrose realized. "I'll make a call…"

"No need." Nick fumbled with his phone. "She lost her phone yesterday and used mine to find it. I didn't log her out, and I doubt she did either." He found the app he was looking for, tapped through several screens, and waited for what felt like a lifetime, but was no more than seconds. Relief flooded over him when a blue dot appeared. "She's on Route 15, headed out of town," he said. "She's on the move, but I think, somehow, she is past the roadblocks. Looks to be near that state park…"

"The Kinkles have a hunting cabin out there," Ambrose remembered, his heart rate somehow picking up even more.

"Let's go," Nick rushed for the door, his foot suddenly pain free, Ambrose on his heels. "That bastard isn't getting Sabrina." They piled into Ambrose's police SUV. Ambrose peeled out, his sirens on, direction pointed towards Sabrina. Nick flipped off the sirens. "No sirens. We need as much of an element of surprise as we can manage. If he hears us coming, he might hurt Sabrina."

"What about backup?" Ambrose asked, deferring to Nick to make the decision.

"Not yet," Nick shook his head. "We'll call when we're sure – when we have confirmation that Sabrina is with him."

"That's a risky move, Scratch…"

"It's a bigger risk to go in guns blazing. I know it in my gut. But Sabrina is smart, Ambrose. She's got a plan, and as much as I hate it, we have to trust that she knows what she's doing. She's going to do what she can to talk him out of hurting her, try to help him, because that's who she is, what she does. If we bust in with a militia backing us, he will hurt her out of fear or desperation."

"Let me bring them to the base of the mountain," Ambrose proposed. "This cabin is a ways out, Scratch, and way up in the mountains. If we need them, they will be closer. With the weather like this, it will slow them down if we wait too long to call them."

"Fine," Nick agreed. "Have them at the base of the mountain. But don't use the two way. Phone calls, and instruct them to do the same. Keep it out of Kinkle's ears. We don't know what he's listening to."

He sat anxiously in the passenger seat, listening to Ambrose call out orders. They sped through the roads of Greendale, ignoring the weather conditions, Sabrina their only goal. He swallowed down the nausea bubbling and called on his focus. He couldn't be too late this time. He had to get to her. He had to save her.

"Units are moving," Ambrose said, dumping his phone in the console. "They will wait at the base of the mountain until further instruction. They passed through the Route 15 roadblock about twenty minutes ago. Kinkle told the cops he had orders from you to get Sabrina to a safe house."

"Sabrina's doings," Nick guessed. "She's leading him out of town then will confront him. She wants to settle this herself." He smacked the door in frustration. "She feels responsible for all of this. She wants to end this on her own terms."

"She's always been too damned brazen for her own good," Ambrose said. "The aunties and her came to visit my family and I in England when Sabrina was six. She had just learned how to ride a bike without training wheels and I dared her to race me down a steep hill. She did, even though she couldn't control the bike. She crashed, broke an arm, skinned both knees, but stood up bragging because she won."

"She's fearless," Nick agreed. "I usually love that about her, but right now…"

"I know," Ambrose nodded. "Trust me. I know." A roadblock appeared ahead of them, but it had already been cleared for them with Ambrose's call.

"Just get us there, Ambrose," Nick said as they blew threw the checkpoint. "I will take care of Kinkle."

Ambrose cut his eye at him as he drove.

"Don't do anything stupid, Scratch."

Nick sat back in his seat. He removed his gun from its place in his holster and placed it in his lap.

"It's Sabrina, Ambrose." He tightened the straps on his vest. "I'll do whatever it takes to get her out of there alive."


	24. Chapter 24

Sabrina thought of Nick as she approached the Kinkle's front door. She knew, deep down, that this was the worst thing she could do to him. He wanted, so badly, to keep her safe, to protect her, and here she was, willingly putting her life on the line. He had said it himself – losing her would destroy him. But she had to believe that he would be okay, if it came down to it. She had to do this. She had to end this.

She raised her fist and knocked.

To her relief, Harvey answered the door.

"Sabrina, hey," he greeted, surprised to find her on his doorstep. "What brings you by? I figured you would be with Theo. I was about to head over there…"

"I was with Theo," she said with a nod. "But Harvey, I need your help." She made sure to sound just a little desperate. "I need to get out of Greendale."

"Out of Greendale?" he repeated. "Why?"

"You're one of the only people that knows the killer is after me." She didn't have to work too hard to sound afraid. "Nick… He thinks he can keep me safe if I stay in Greendale, at the station or with him. But Theo was the last victim, even though he survived. I'm next. I know I am. I need to get out of town, lay low. I thought, maybe, I could hide out in your family's hunting cabin? Just until I can figure out my next move?"

"Of course," he said after a few beats. It was the answer she was hoping for. "We didn't use it much this season… But its got running water, a fireplace… It won't be all that comfortable, but if you need it…"

"I need it," she said, again working to sound desperate. "But Harvey, can you take me? It's just that there are roadblocks all over town and I know Nick and Ambrose will have given orders for me not to get through them. They are already going to be mad enough when they get to the hospital and realize I'm not there."

"I don't know if I can get you past…"

"You're a cop," Sabrina reminded him. "Just say – Nick told you to take me to safety or something like that."

"Fine," Harvey relented. "I'll come up with something. Let me get my coat."

He didn't invite her in. She waited on the porch, shivering in the cold, but not from the elements. The wintery mix had picked up and she knew, the higher into the mountains they got where they cabin was, the more ice there would be, the harder it would be for help to reach her. She took the brief moment of solitude to check her phone out of habit. She had several missed calls and a voicemail from 'Scratch.' Her heart squeezed. She pushed down tears and read the text he had sent her twenty minutes ago.

_Heading to the hospital now. What room is Theo in? _

She did the math. He had likely arrived at the hospital by now and was in the middle of discovering that she wasn't there. She had been careful to make sure Theo knew her next step was the station. She needed to leave a paper trail, a way for Nick to find the truth. She couldn't think about how he would find her – because she knew, deep down, he would find her, one way or another. As long as she kept Harvey moving, they would have a good head start on Nick and Ambrose.

"Ready?" Harvey asked. He had a backpack with him.

"Yes," Sabrina nodded. "I'm ready."

She wasn't. Every fiber in her being screamed at her to back out now. To get in her car and rush to wherever Nick was, tell him everything she knew, and let him take care of things.

But she was the reason all of this had happened. She had to be the one to end it.

The ride to the cabin in Harvey's father's truck was nearly silent. Harvey's own truck had been retained by police for evidence, a real reminder of what she was doing. At the roadblock, Harvey smoothly convinced the officer, a Riverdale police department member, to let them through with a lie about transporting her to a safe house under Nick's direct orders. Sabrina breathed an internal sigh of relief. She had been worried they would be retained, that Nick had already found the papers she left for him and put out an all points bulletin. She knew it would come, and likely soon, but with luck, they would be in the mountains, far enough from the heart of Greendale that they would likely not be seen for some time.

The cabin came into view. Her stomach flipped again. Ice hung from the trees up here and even inside the truck, the temperature had dropped several degrees. There was no backing out now.

"Here we are," Harvey said. "It's not much, but if you want to get away, this will do the trick."

She followed him up the long set of porch stairs, waited for him to unlock the door. He held it for her, ever the gentleman. It smelled musty and old inside. Lights flooded the space when he flipped the switch. It was simple, a small living area with bunk beds stacked on either side, a kitchen sectioned off by a wall, a bathroom on the opposite side. It was rustic and makeshift, cobbled together by men who didn't care as much about design appeal as women.

"It seems smaller now," she commented. Harvey had brought her here before, a long time ago, when they were teenagers and wanted to be alone. She had very nearly lost her virginity in one of the bottom bunks before putting on the brakes, not quite ready to go that far. She had given in a few weeks later, in the bed of his truck, blankets piled around them as they waited for a meteor shower they never saw.

"Time makes us see things differently," Harvey said. "I'll get a fire going."

"I have some tea in my bag," she said, trying to seem normal. "Want some?"

"Sure."

They separated, her to the kitchen, him to the fireplace. She quickly found and washed out a pot to boil water and took two mugs from a cabinet. A knife block caught her eye. She made a split second decision to snag the smallest knife, a paring knife, and stuff it into her tall boot.

"It should warm up soon," Harvey said, entering the kitchen, sans backpack, she noted. "I got the fire going."

"Your tea is ready," she replied, nodding at the mug that was across the small makeshift kitchen island, a metal and fake wood contraption on wheels, from where she stood.

"Thanks." He picked it up but didn't take a sip. "How long do you plan on staying up here, 'Brina?"

It was the use of his nickname for her, one she had always secretly hated even though her friends had picked up using it, that made her decide the time was now.

"I guess that depends on how long you intend to let me live."

He looked at her. She saw the moment he put the pieces together.

"You know."

"I saw your dad earlier today, at the hospital," she explained. "He told me about your brother, Morgan. He said it was an accident, but something didn't add up. Gut instinct, I suppose. I googled and there wasn't much – it was so long ago – but I found an article on your mom. Her real name was Meredith Commingle, daughter of Jerry Commingle, the original Scrabble Killer, arrested by my father. She is believed to have killed an ex-boyfriend, although it was never proven, and she murdered her young son – your brother." She looked at Harvey for a long moment. "And now you're going to kill me to avenge her."

"Your father ruined my mother's life," Harvey said with sudden venom in his voice. "She is the way she is because of Edward Spellman. Her father – my grandfather – didn't do anything wrong…"

"He killed seven people," Sabrina reminded him. "You have killed six. You would have killed seven, if Theo hadn't made it."

"You will make up my seventh," Harvey said matter-of-factly. "Once you're dead, I don't care if they catch me. I'll have my vengeance. That's all I want."

Chills went through Sabrina.

"My dad arrested your grandfather because he deserved to pay for his crimes," she said. "Your mom, too, deserved to pay for what she did. You, Harvey… You could have chosen differently. You could have chosen to live a different life."

"I went to see her when we broke up," he said. "First time I'd seen her in years. I actually thought she was dead for a long time. Dad told Tommy and I that she was. We were young enough to believe him. Too young to realize there was never a funeral. We found out the truth a few years ago, accidentally, digging around in a hall closet for Tommy's birth certificate so he could get a passport. Dad had his explanation ready – we were so young, and Morgan's death had been so hard on us… Imagine, living in this town with so many people knowing your mother was a fraud and a murderer and having no idea yourself."

"I'm so…"

"Sorry," Harvey finished. "You're always sorry, Sabrina. You're always too nosy for your own good. I told my mom about you when I went to see her – and she said the same thing. 'That girl sounds like someone with a death wish.' Little did she know, I had a plan all along.

"But you know what she told me?" he continued before Sabrina could say anything further. "Something that throws your whole 'could have chosen different' plan right out the window? She said the prison psychologist thinks she has what they call the 'serial killer gene.' It's genetic, it seems. A mutation, of sorts. I would say ask Scratch – he's dabbled in research on it , did you know? – but I doubt the detective will see you alive again. Pity for him, that he wouldn't let you say 'I love you.' Now, he'll never hear it."

Sabrina's eyes filled with tears. That was one of her biggest regrets. That she wouldn't get to tell Nick she loved him with actual words.

"Why, Harvey?" Her voice cracked. "If you're going to kill me, I deserve to know why. Why these victims? Why me?"

"The short answer? You already said it. Vengeance. My mom's life was ruined because of your dad. She had to grow up without a father, but she also had to grow up marked as the daughter of a serial killer. Her life was hell!" He hit the countertop to emphasize his point. Sabrina jumped. Despite the evidence, she struggled to reconcile the Harvey that stood before her with the Harvey she had known so well, or so she thought. "She had to take a different name, a different identity.

"She killed her ex-boyfriend because he was an abusive asshole," Harvey continued, confirming his mother's crime. "He deserved to die. She wouldn't have killed my brother if she wasn't so messed up from her own childhood. His death is on your father's hands – your hands – too. I grew up without her – and believing a lie – because your father had to sentence my grandfather to death."

"This is a vendetta," Sabrina tried. "It doesn't make sense…"

"It makes perfect sense!" Harvey cried. "Your father might be dead, but you're not. Not yet, anyway. Your blood will have to do for his."

Harvey took a few steps around the island. She matched his steps, moving in the opposite direction, away from him.

"What's the long story?" she asked. She had to keep him talking. The longer he talked, the better chance she had at finding a way out of this that left them both alive. "You owe me that, Harvey. Why kill our friends? Why not just kill me?"

Harvey laughed.

"Oh, 'Brina," he shook his head. "I've been working on this plan for years. Why do you think I joined the police force?"

Her eyes grew big.

"You've been planning this," she realized, "for years…"

"I needed to learn everything I could, you see, about how the law worked. What better way to learn how to cover up a murder than learn how to solve one? I suppose I could have researched it – Google, watch a few movies, listen to a few podcasts. But that leaves a trail. I was content to play the long game, wait for my time to come."

"I thought you loved me…"

It hurt almost as much as the murders, to realize how many years of her life had been a complete lie. She had loved Harvey. He was her first love and while they had outgrown one another, she didn't doubt that the love, as innocent as it had been, had been real.

"I did," Harvey nodded. "For a while. But imagine how it felt to learn first that I had a little brother I barely remembered that died by my mother's hand, and then that my mother wasn't who we believed, that she was rotting away in a jail cell near Boston, all because of a guy named Edward Spellman. And here I was, dating his daughter. I decided right then and there that I had to do something about you to avenge what my family had lost."

"You kept me close so you could hurt me…"

"I did," Harvey confirmed nonchalantly. "The only thing I regret about all of this is hurting Roz. I really do love her. I had to give into my desires, because I knew time was running short. Hurting you was just a happy byproduct of it all, but I had to act like I was oh so sorry for cheating on you to sell the whole thing."

"Then don't do this," Sabrina tried, seeing an open. "If you love Roz, don't do this. She's my best friend… Killing me will hurt her…"

"I no longer care, don't you see?" Harvey asked. "My only goal now is to end you." He took a few more steps around the island. She shuffled a few more, keeping the distance between them.

"Why the victims?" she pressed. "Why not just kill me from the beginning?"

"Your greatest weakness, Sabrina Spellman, is that you love people," Harvey pointed out. "You see the best in them. You try to help them. You know their life stories, ask about their grandkids, how their doctor appointment went. It used to drive me crazy, you, chatting with a neighbor about something meaningless while I appeared to wait patiently, but I was really damning you to hell for keeping me away from a meal or movie. But, after looking into some of your father's cases for inspiration, I realized the original Scrabble Killer had the right idea – hurt his ultimate victim by picking off people close to her one by one."

A few more steps for Harvey, a few more for her. They were nearly back to their original positions, their tea between them, untouched. Sleet pelted at the windows, harder than when they arrived.

"I will say, the arrival of your detective put a wrench in my plans," Harvey said. "When I put my plan into place, Fred Martin was the resident detective. He was a lot of things, but savvy wasn't one of them. His retirement took me by surprise, but Captain Spellman hiring Scratch? I considered calling the whole thing off for a moment."

"Nick will know you did this," she told him with certainty. "He will stop at nothing to make sure you pay for what you've done."

"Like I said, I don't really care what happens to me after you breathe your last breath. Let Detective Scratch do his worst." Harvey stopped and took a sip of his tea. Sabrina frowned at his peculiar behavior, the way he so casually drank his tea while revealing his horrors. "It ended up being fun, thwarting Scratch, watching him grow more and more frustrated, more and more desperate to find the murderer. And determined, so determined, to keep you safe. Yet, here you are, facing down death."

"The victims," Sabrina tried again. "Why them? Why the Wardwells?"

"Oh, the Wardwells." He smiled a sinister yet fond smile as he recalled the murder. "That was an easy one to pull off. Mary and Adam, so trusting. I set things up early in the day, during Emily's funeral. It was worth the reprimanding I got from Captain Spellman."

"You were supposed to be directing traffic," Sabrina realized. "You were the officer missing from the intersection when Nick stepped in."

She remembered the moment. She had just asked Nick to join her at the classic horror movie double feature and they were walking aimlessly down the street. He had stopped her from walking into the street, commented on the traffic and the missing officer to direct it. She had teased him about his whistle and he had winked at her as he stepped into the street. She would give anything to be sitting next to him in a movie theater now, or else on barstools at Cee's, drinking milkshakes and talking about their lives.

"Scratch, always saving the day," Harvey quipped. "But, yes. I cased their house while everyone was at the funeral. When they got home that night, I waited until they were inside and settled, but, later I learned, hadn't yet called their daughter, a stroke of luck, and knocked on the door.

"Oh, they were so happy to see me. That's the benefit of being boy next door Harvey Kinkle. Everyone was so trusting, so easy to convince that I had the best of intentions. Everyone thought I was a bumbling idiot of a cop, better at writing parking tickets than investigating a murder. They would never think I was capable of harming someone. I told the Wardwells there had been a break in in the area and could I please have a few minutes of their time to talk through ways to keep themselves from being a victim? Apologies for the late hour… Of course they invited me in, even offered me something to drink. I wasn't even wearing my uniform, but they never thought to ask why, did they? Just trusted me blindly…

"I shot Mrs. Wardwell first," he revealed. "Adam tried to come after me – it was sweet, really, how he wanted to defend his already dead wife. I was careful to shoot him in just the right spot, then arrange things to look like a murder-suicide. I thought, for a moment, that Scratch was going to blow my work out of the water. He figured out the door had been jimmied – I did that earlier in the day to get inside, banking on Mary's habit of locking herself out to disguise my efforts. Scratch spent a lot of time asking questions, searching for evidence that I made sure didn't exist. but Ambrose pressured him to close the case and I had a nice breather before they put together the whole Scrabble thing. Points to Scratch for finding that tile in photos weeks later. I really though they had missed it."

"Nick is good at his job," Sabrina said. "Of course he found it. He told me weeks ago that he didn't think the Wardwells were a murder-suicide."

Harvey didn't seem to hear her. He was relishing in telling his story, having her as a captive audience.

"Cassius was another easy kill. I picked him as a victim early on – you were always running off to the library for research, to meet with the old man to talk about this or that. I made sure to casually run into him on the street and ask if he would help me research my mom, and could we please do it after hours because I didn't want anyone to know… Of course he took pity on me. It was so easy I almost felt bad for him. Of course, I shot him in the back of the head, so he never saw it coming. I had short circuited the library cameras a few days earlier, made absolutely sure no one would see me."

"Cassius didn't deserve that…" Sabrina fought back tears at the flippant way Harvey referred to taking a life.

"None of them did, did they?" Harvey asked with a shrug and another sip of tea. "I intended sweet little Emily Harrowick to die after Cassius, but she lost her life in a true accident and so I had to find a new victim. Enter, Angela Fields."

"How could you?" Sabrina spat, growing more horrified and disgusted with each description. Still, she had to keep him talking. It was her only chance. "She just lost her daughter…"

"Please," Harvey snorted. "I did Angela a favor. She was miserable. All it took was a few well-placed words to get her to think I was interested in taking away some of her pain. I told her to meet me at the bell tower for a secret rendezvous and of course she showed up. Desperate, hurting people usually do. I let her go up the stairs ahead of me – ladies first – and at the top I simply – pushed. Again, credit to Scratch for knowing it wasn't a suicide right away. He really is a brilliant detective.

"The whole 'I was patrolling and found a dead woman' thing was a built in excuse to cover my tracks, but I needed to be on patrol in the first place, didn't I?" Harvey asked. He didn't wait for an answer. "Ambrose had us draw cards for who had to work during Cassius' funeral. I lied and said I had '3,' knowing he wouldn't check. Another Spellman that's too trusting for his own good. And so, my plan was in place – I could meet Angela, kill her, and pretend to find her – and there was no video surveillance in the area. There is now, thanks to your aunt the mayor, but there wasn't then."

"And Blackwood?" Sabrina pressed. "Why Father Blackwood?"

"You had a fond spot for Father Blackwood," Harvey said. "Or rather, an intrigue. You thought he was a terrible person, but he was your aunt's lover and for whatever reason, you were oh so accepting of that arrangement."

"His marriage was over," Sabrina said. "And Zelda loved him… He loved her…"

"That murder hurt a lot of people," Harvey said with a sense of self-satisfaction. "Constance Blackwood is still half-crazed in a mental ward. Your Aunt Zelda, mayor that she is, has managed to put one foot in front of the other as of late, but even she still mourns. It was perhaps my most satisfying kill.

"I almost messed that murder up though," he continued. "I had to be very careful. In hindsight, I would have chosen a different method. I knew he was still alive when I left him, but I didn't have much time and that was a daring one – broad daylight. I knew he practiced his sermon during that time. I wandered in like I intended to make a confession. He had no idea that I had snuck in through the back entrance, changed out of my uniform, and into something less obvious. He, too, was as welcoming as always. A lost lamb returned to the flock.

"I used the back exit to get out unseen – even cleaned up in the church bathroom, put my uniform back on, and stashed the evidence in a loose ceiling tile until I could remove it safely. Another satisfying moment, knowing that Blackwood was trying to tell Scratch who stabbed him while gasping his last breaths. I was up in the loft, watching it all unfold, pretending to be clearing the place on Scratch's orders. I even directed the paramedics in, knowing he was dead. And to know all the evidence Scratch could need was literally at his feet while he combed the place for so much as a fiber he didn't find… Such a good day."

"Harvey…" Sabrina was at a loss for words, but she kept digging. She had to. "You tried to kill Nick next. By cutting his brake lines."

"I wasn't trying to kill Scratch, nor did I cut his brake lines," Harvey countered. "I was trying to send him a warning – mostly because it would freak you out – and I tampered with his lines. If I had straight up cut them, he would have known right away and never put the thing in drive. I'm just lucky they failed early and I didn't have to wait around."

"He could have died…"

"It wouldn't have been the worst thing," Harvey shrugged. "But a dead detective is messy, and it was risky, cutting his lines. I had to watch his house for days, hack into his security system to figure out where the blind spots in his surveillance system was. Then I had to wait for him to park the SUV in just the right place, and for you and that damned dog to not be home so Scratch wouldn't be as alert. I was just sick of seeing the two of you all over each other and decided to make myself feel better."

They looked at one another, eyes locking. Sabrina didn't recognize the man looking back at her. She thought of the knife in her boot, tried to think of how to get to it without him noticing.

"You killed your own brother," she said. "Tommy. You two were so close…"

"I didn't want to kill him." For the first time, she saw regret in Harvey. "I had thought my second to last kill would be someone like Cee – one step from your inner circle – but Tommy was asking questions. He was growing suspicious of me. He was always smarter than most people thought and we were close. Something had to be done or he would go to Sratch and ruin it all. Then it hit me. Why not kill him, but make you think I was the target? Unfortunate, but I did what I had to do."

"You're cold hearted," Sabrina accused.

"Maybe so," Harvey nodded. "Or maybe I don't have a heart at all."

"And Theo?" She was running out of time. She could feel it. "Why Theo?"

"Another kill I didn't want to make," he shook his head. "I had planned for my last kill to be someone close to you. I thought about Zelda, but she's the mayor – also messy. Hilda… She's the medical examiner. She's just enough left of center to be an asset to my murders – if she would have looked hard enough, she would have probably found some shred of evidence. No one is perfect, after all. Scratch was certainly a consideration, but it was hard enough to find moments to sneak into the conference room, make sure he still had no feasible leads, lead alone find a way to kill him without leaving a trail."

"You made sure I knew you were after me," Sabrina recalled. "You wanted me to know. You wanted me to know Nick was lying to me."

"When I realized he knew the killer – me – was after you, I thought it was only fair that you knew, too." They shuffled their steps once more. "Theo… I intended to kill him. I really did. But, I was weak. It was _Theo. _Had he not started asking questions too…" He paused and shook his head. "I really didn't want to kill him." She saw more regret. It was a strange comfort to know there was still a human side to Harvey, in spite of what she was learning. "I shot him, didn't know if he was dead or not, and hoped he didn't recognize me if he survived."

"He didn't," Sabrina supplied. "He did say you looked familiar, but unless he remembered something after I left him, you're safe from Theo turning you in."

"No matter. This will be over soon."

He reached behind him. A gun appeared. Sabrina gasped.

"Harvey…"

"I debated on how to do this…" He started his steps again. So did she. "Shoot you? Stab you? Strangle you? So many options… I even considered one last time with you." He grinned wickedly. "For old times sake."

"Harvey… " Her voice trembled. "No…"

"I decided it wasn't worth that. It would likely be my last time, too, and I would like to know I slept with Roz last." He clicked the safety off his gun. It was police issued, given to him by the Greendale Police Department. "In the end, stabbing? Too messy. Shooting you? Well, that would be quick. I can't let the daughter of Edward Spellman die quick." He raised the gun to Sabrina. "So I'm going to strangle you. With my bare hands."

"Harvey…"

She backed against the wall, trying to put distance between them. If she played her cards right, she realized, she could get out of the kitchen and into the living area.

"No need to protest," he said. "We're up here all alone – thanks to you, remember? Big thanks for supplying me with an opportunity so I didn't have to do the work to find one. There is no one to hear you scream, no one to hear your cries. You will suffer some, as you gasp for breath, but it will be modestly quick. Relatively painless, if you submit and don't fight."

"I'm not the submissive type," she informed him. She would fight until her last breath. "You should know that." She inched closer to the door.

"Stop right there." She froze, aware of the gun still on her. Harvey smirked again. "You're trying to escape. Lead me all the way up here and think you're going to walk away? Not a chance, Sabrina Spellman. Not a chance."

"Please, Harvey," she begged. "You don't want to do this…"

"Oh I do, and I am," he said with a single nod. "Now, take that knife out of your boot and put it on the counter." She just looked at him, wondering how he knew she had it. "Do it, Sabrina!"

She kept her eyes on him and reached into her boot. She pulled the knife out and placed it on the counter with a shaking hand.

"Please, Harvey, put the gun down," she tried. "We can talk this out… We can find a way…"

"There is no way out of this, Sabrina," he said. "For either of us."

"Officer Kinkle."

Sabrina startled and grabbed the counter to hold herself upright.

Somehow, someway, Nicholas Scratch was in the kitchen doorway, his gun raised and pointed at Harvey. If Harvey was surprised by his stealth appearance, he didn't show it.

"Isn't this perfect?" Harvey said as thought greeting a long lost friend. "Detective Scratch, here to save the day. I will have to kill you both, I suppose. Scratch, you will go first. It will hurt Sabrina more to watch you die."

"No one else has to die." Nick didn't take his eyes off of Harvey. "Put the gun down, Harvey." He used his first name on purpose. "Let Sabrina go. Then you and I can talk this out, come up with a solution."

"We both know there's no solution," Harvey shook his head. "I'm done for no matter whether the two of you make it out of this or not."

"Sabrina," Nick addressed her, eyes still on Harvey, gun trained on him. He pulled on every piece of training he had to deescalate the situation they were in in an effort not to use force, not with Sabrina at risk. Harvey's own gun remained focused on her, but he had to chance it. He was a good shot. He could get Harvey first, if it came down to it. "I want you to come to me. Slowly. One step at a time. Stay against the wall."

Sabrina took a shaky step sideways towards Nick. Harvey's gun followed her. She took another one. The gun moved, too.

"Stop, 'Brina," Harvey ordered. "You go any further and I'll shoot."

Sabrina froze.

"Harvey," she tried. Nick took two measured steps into the room. He had yet to look her way, eyes on his target. "Please, put the gun down."

"Maybe I'll shoot her first," Harvey said. "Make you suffer, Scratch. You lost one girlfriend, from what I found out in my research into you. What's another? You were almost on time this time…"

"You made some mistakes," Nick tried, his heart pounding in his ears. "We can talk, Harvey. We can find a way out of this. You just need to put the gun down, and let Sabrina go."

He came further into the room. His limp was prominent, Sabrina noticed, but his hands were steady. This time, he took two slight steps in her direction. She took a chance and took the smallest of steps towards him. She wanted to protect him as much as he was determined to protect her.

"Nick…" she tried.

He didn't acknowledge her.

"You're just like her," Harvey said, nodding at Sabrina, his gun unwavering. "Always trying to find a solution. Fix things. The only way to fix this is for both of you to die." Harvey zeroed in on Sabrina. "Starting now."

A gunshot ricocheted through the kitchen.

Sabrina screamed and lunged towards Nick, unsure of whose gun had fired. He kept a hand on his gun, but grabbed her and pushed her behind him. She stumbled and crashed to the floor.

"You missed, Scratch!" Harvey taunted. Sabrina had just enough time to realize Nick had fired his gun, purposefully missing Harvey in an effort to distract him, before Harvey pointed his gun at Nick. "I won't, though."

The room filled with gunshots.

Sabrina could only watch helplessly as bullets found a home in Nick's vest. Blood bloomed on his left shoulder, but he kept his footing, unsteady as it was. He fired his own gun, catching Harvey just above the knee and then again in the thigh. Harvey hit the floor with a howl of pain, his gun flying towards Sabrina.

Nick moved fast in spite of his wounds. He kicked Harvey's gun away, well out of reach of Harvey. His vision blurred from the pain spreading throughout his body, but he approached Harvey with his gun raised. Pain seared through him as hot as white fire as he reached for his handcuffs with his left hand, his gun trained on Harvey with his right. He ignored the pain. Pure adrenaline rushed through him and kept him moving as he manhandled Kinkle onto his stomach and wrapped an arm behind him.

"You have the right to remain silent," he said as he tightened the first cuff. Harvey didn't protest, the wound to his leg keeping him down, the reality that murder games were over evident. "Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right…" his vision was cloudy at best. He pushed through, using Sabrina, still on the floor, her eyes big and scared and on him, as his beacon, "to an attorney. If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be provided for you."

"Scratch!" Ambrose appeared, gun at the ready. "What the hell happened?"

"Ambrose!" Sabrina scrambled to stand. "Help…"

"Do you understand the rights I have just read to you?" Nick continued, all of his energy directed at subduing Harvey Kinkle. He stopped to take a quick breath and reminded himself he only had to say one more sentence before he could go to Sabrina, make sure she was okay. "With these rights in mind, do you wish to speak to me?"

"Officer down," he heard Ambrose say into his two way. "I repeat, I have an officer down." His tone was urgent. "And an suspect," he added as an afterthought. "Send two buses." Nick tried to focus on Sabrina. He had to make sure she was okay.

"Sabrina…" He climbed off of a handcuffed Harvey to go to her.

The world spun.

The last thing he heard before he hit the ground was Sabrina's scream.


	25. Chapter 25

Nick had just a fraction of a second to realize he was in a hospital bed before the pain overtook him.

"Ahh!" he cried out. He tried to wrench away from it, but it was everywhere and the movement made infinitely worse. He hissed through his clenched teeth, trying and failing to breathe through it.

"Nick," came a soft, comforting voice. Sabrina appeared over him. Her hand was feather light against his cheek. "You're okay," she soothed. "It's okay."

"Sabrina…" he gasped. Everything hurt. It more than hurt. He had never felt physical pain like this before.

"I'm okay," she assured him, anticipating what he was going to ask. He felt her moving around beside him, the loss of her touch, but all he could focus on was the pain that chorused through body, no matter how badly he wanted to look at the girl next to him, see for his own eyes that she was okay.

"Can I help you?" a voice filled the room.

"Detective Scratch is awake," he heard Sabrina saying. He tried to take deep breaths, but it just hurt too much. His breaths came out short and choppy instead. "He's in a lot of pain."

"Someone will be right there," the voice said.

"Thank you." Her hand returned to his cheek, her thumb moving back and forth to comfort him. "Someone is on their way," she told him. "We're going to take care of you. You're going to be fine, Nick." She pressed a kiss to his forehead.

"Sabrina…"

"I'm here," she soothed. "Shhh. Rest now. We can talk about everything later." He was in too much pain to argue. "You're safe. We're all safe."

Someone, a doctor, he thought, entered the room, said something to him about being in a lot of pain. He couldn't form words to answer as another wave of what felt like a thousand tiny shards of glass washed through him. He heard Sabrina confirming, asking the doctor to please give him something to help. He was vaguely aware of another person, a nurse, replacing Sabrina at his side, talking about pain medicine and an IV He heard Sabrina asking questions he couldn't register. The nurse was doing something at his side, but the pain was so intense his vision was blurred.

"Sabrina…" he gasped again.

"She hasn't gone anywhere," the nurse said, moving to allow Sabrina to return to his side.

"I'm here." Her hand wrapped around his. "Rest, Nick. I'll be here when you wake up. I promise."

She kissed his forehead again as he closed his eyes and let the pain overtake him.

* * *

When he woke up again, the pain was still there, but it wasn't as blinding as it had been earlier. He turned his head, searching for Sabrina. She was there, curled in a chair at his bedside, reading a magazine.

"Sabrina." His voice sounded hoarse.

She turned to him. Relief colored her features.

"Nick." She stood and perched on the edge of his bed. "How are you feeling?"

"Like I've been shot," he muttered. He had a hazy memory of gunshots and the feeling of bullets barreling into his vest. He wasn't worried about himself though. He tried to sit up. "Ahh!" Pain blazed through his upper body, pinning him back to the pillows. He realized then that his left shoulder was heavily bandaged and strapped to his chest. There was blood on the bandage.

"Nick, don't." Sabrina helped him settle back against the pillows. "Don't try to move too much right now."

He closed his eyes and swallowed hard, riding out the fresh wave of pain his movements had caused. When the worst of it was over, he blinked his eyes back open. Sabrina was still there, looking at him with concern.

"Are you okay?" he asked her. "Are you hurt?"

"I'm fine." Her fingers wound through his and she once more perched on the edge of his bed. "A few bumps and bruise and a sore wrist from when I fell, but I'm okay."

"And Harvey?"

"He's in custody. He's not going to hurt anyone else."

"You're sure you're okay?" Nick pressed.

"I'm okay," she promised. "Really, Nick. I'm okay. They checked me over when they brought you in, did a few x-rays. I didn't even need a brace for my wrist." She raised his hand to her lips. "How bad is the pain? Tell me the truth, Scratch."

"Not great, but not as bad as it was earlier," he answered honestly.

"You're on some pretty strong pain killers," she told him. "The doctor said you will be pretty drowsy for the next few days."

"What's my damage?" he asked. "I can tell from the amount of pain I'm in that its more than a few bumps and bruises." Sabrina's hand tightened around his.

"You were shot three times." He winced, but not for himself. Sabrina was there. She had seen it. He was certain she was terrified in that moment, and he hated that he had scared her. "Two bullets were stopped by your vest. You have got some nasty bruises and the force of being shot a such a close distance broke a few ribs. The doctor said they were 'kill shots.' You would have been dead without that vest, Nick." Her voice hitched, giving away how hard she was working to keep her own emotions in check to be strong for him. "I'll save us the argument and let you know you are never taking it off again."

He smiled just a little.

"The bullet to your shoulder did a lot of damage, she continued. "You have what they called a proximal humerus fracture. Basically, the bullet crashed though this bone." She motioned to where her own arm connected to her shoulder. "It also nicked your brachial artery. You lost a lot of blood before they could get you here. They had to do emergency surgery to stop the bleeding, repair the fracture, and try to prevent nerve damage." Another hitch. "They think they were successful, but we won't know for sure until the swelling goes down and you start physical therapy. You have a nice collection of titanium holding everything together now."

Nick let his head fall back. It wasn't the first time he had been hurt on the job, but he had never been hurt this badly before.

"You have an assortment of bumps and bruises, including a nice goose egg." She very lightly touched a place just above his left eye. He winced. "You got this when you collapsed after cuffing Harvey. Thankfully, the doctors don't think you got a concussion."

"There's some good news," he muttered.

"The good news is you're alive," Sabrina said pointedly. "As for your foot, Nicholas Scratch, I'm sorry to inform you that you are going to need surgery in a few weeks to repair the damage done by not listening to your doctor in the first place."

"Excellent," Nick sighed, feeling discouraged. "My whole left side is out of commission for the foreseeable future."

"You will be as good as new before long." Sabrina brushed a curl of hair from his forehead. "You're alive, Nick. I don't care if your left side doesn't work all that well right now. You're alive, and you're here, and that's all that matters."

"How long have I been out?" he asked, leaning into her touch as her hand trailed down his cheek.

"Two days," she answered. "You were in surgery for a few hours, and then you have been in and out of consciousness for the last day and a half or so. This is the first time you've managed to string together more than a few mumbled words."

He frowned, trying to figure out the day, no recollection of waking up at all between the time he collapsed at the hunting cabin and now.

"It's Thanksgiving," he realized after a moment. Sabrina shook her head.

"Thanksgiving was yesterday, Scratch. We will have to celebrate at a later date." She rested her hand on his jaw and looked into his eyes. They were tired and a little cloudy. Hers, he noted were full of worry and she looked like she hadn't slept in days. "I love you, Nick." A tear escaped. "I love you so much."

While the monitor attached to him didn't show it, he was sure his heart skipped several beats. Those three words from her were everything. They gave him purpose.

"I love you, too, Sabrina," he replied in a rough voice that revealed the storm of emotions he was feeling at finally hearing her say those words. "I had no idea it was possible to love someone the way I love you."

She leaned down and pressed her lips to his. He kissed her back, wishing he could do more, wishing it didn't hurt so badly to simply kiss his girlfriend.

"I love you," she said again as she pulled away. She smiled just a bit, her eyes watery. "I'm going to say it a lot."

"I love you," he replied. He squeezed her hand, weakly, three times. She wiped at another tear and squeezed back, one long, hard, reassuring squeeze.

"Do you need anything?" she asked. "Something to drink? I'm not sure where they stand on letting you eat yet, but I can ask if you're hungry…"

"Water," Nick decided. "My throat is sore."

"From the ventilator during surgery," Sabrina said knowingly. He missed her the moment she left his side. She was back almost right away, this time with a cup of water and a straw. He tried to reach for it with his right arm, but hissed in pain. "Don't try that," she shook her head. "I've got it."

She held the cup for him while he took a long sip. The cool liquid felt good on his throat.

"Where's Dublin?" he asked, settling back against his pillows. "Is someone looking after her?"

"She's at the mortuary," Sabrina confirmed. "I made Ambrose go get her."

"Ambrose is terrified of dogs." Sabrina smirked.

"I know." His chuckle quickly turned into another hiss. "Careful," Sabrina soothed. Her hand ran through his hair. She couldn't stop touching him, reassuring herself that he was there, that he was okay. "Your only job right now is to relax and get better."

"I'm going to be at your mercy for the foreseeable future too, aren't I?" he asked.

"I'm afraid so, Scratch," she confirmed. "If you think I was a pain in the ass over your foot, imagine what I'm going to be like now."

"You're here and you're safe," he said. "All of this is a small price to pay. There is also the fact that I don't think I have a choice in the matter." He was already calculating what he could and couldn't do for himself in his current state. The list of what he couldn't do far outstripped what he could. If Sabrina wanted to play nurse, he wasn't going to stop her. "And you're pretty cute."

"Are you really trying to flirt with me right now?" Sabrina asked.

"Distracting myself from the pain," Nick answered. Sabrina rolled her eyes but smiled. She leaned down for another kiss.

"Did that help?"

"A little," he confirmed. He squeezed her hand, aware again that he didn't have his full strength. "One more time, for my peace of mind. Are you sure you're okay?"

"I'm positive." She kissed their joined hands again. "I'm also positive you're going to ask me again in a few minutes."

"Guilty," he admitted. "Could I have some more of that water?" Sabrina obliged, grateful he was being amenable. She knew it wouldn't last. He was too stubborn to allow her to take care of him but for so long.

A knock sounded on his door. It creaked open a moment later.

"How is he?" came Ambrose's hushed voice.

"Awake and in pain," Nick answered. Ambrose with a relieved grin.

"I've told you, Scratch, if you want a few days off, just ask," he said. "Crashing cars and getting shot seems excessive."

"I agree," Sabrina said. Nick looked from her to Ambrose.

"I'm going to need a few days off, Captain" Nick said in an attempt to lighten the mood. Ambrose chuckled.

"If I see you around the station before the New Year, I'll suspend you myself," he said, only half joking. "Take some time, Nick. You have certainly earned it."

"The New Year is only a month away," Sabrina said. "Nick, you're going to need more time than that..."

"You really think Scratch is going let someone else testify against Kinkle?" Ambrose asked.

"This might be the first time I've ever looked forward to court," Nick agreed. He squeezed Sabrina's hand. "We'll play my return to work by ear." He saw her bite her lip to keep from arguing, but he was certain the argument would happen, be it today or a few weeks from now. He turned back to Ambrose. "Sabrina said Kinkle is in custody?"

"He had a pit stop here to have his knee and thigh treated, "Ambrose answered. "Well-placed shots, by the way. You subdued him, but didn't kill him."

"I didn't want to kill him," Nick said. "I want the son of bitch to face a jury, pay for what he's done. Killing him would have given him the easy way out." Still, he wouldn't have hesitated to take Harvey's life if it meant saving Sabrina's.

"He's been booked, charged, and is currently residing in isolation," Ambrose continued. "Prudence had a field day charging him. Murder, attempted murder, evidence tampering, false imprisonment… The list is long."

"False imprisonment?" Sabrina asked.

"He held you against your will," Nick explained. "Even if you went with him willingly, he wouldn't let you leave." He approved of what Prudence was doing. She was charging Harvey with absolutely anything he was remotely guilty of.

"No matter," Sabrina shook her head. "He deserves everything he gets."

"Did he confess?" Nick asked. "He would be a fool not to."

"He did, but it wouldn't have mattered if he hadn't." Ambrose nodded towards Sabrina. "Nancy Drew over there recorded their entire confrontation."

"Nancy Drew?" Sabrina asked.

"You know, the sleuthing teenage detective…"

"I know who Nancy Drew is," Sabrina interrupted. "I just think it's a bad comparison. But yes, I did record it all. I had just charged my recorder. I put a fresh memory card in it before I got to Harvey's. I turned it on before I knocked on his door and kept it in my bag, which I left on the kitchen counter so it could pick up what we were saying. I didn't know how things were going to end, and I needed to make sure I left something to solidify Harvey's guilt."

"We're going to have a conversation about you taking off to Kinkle's like you did," Nick told her. "That was stupid, Sabrina."

"You mean you're going to have a fight," Ambrose corrected. "Good luck, Scratch. I've already had words with her. Had we not been in the hospital waiting room, I imagine there would have been slamming doors and thrown home décor."

"Your timing was terrible," Sabrina reminded him. "Nick was in surgery, fighting for his life, and you decide to lecture me about my choices over the last few hours…"

"I'll let Scratch have his turn when he sees fit," Ambrose said, raising his hands in surrender. The last thing he needed was for Sabrina to get wound up. "As for Kinkle, he's been arraigned. He pleaded guilty, was obviously denied bail. Prudence plans to go for the most severe punishment available."

Nick knew what Ambrose was alluding to. Prudence would seek the death penalty. He wasn't sure how Sabrina would feel about that, in spite of her desire to see him pay for his crimes.

"And Theo is okay?" he continued.

"Theo is going to be fine," Ambrose nodded. "He was shot in the arm, but he was otherwise lucky. He's at home, being waited on hand and foot by Billy."

"We'll have to compare battle wounds," Nick mused.

"You'll win," Sabrina told him.

"It wouldn't be a contest," Ambrose confirmed. "Theo's got a paper cut compared to what you're sporting."

"What happened after I entered the cabin?" Nick asked, eager to know everything. The pain ebbed at him, tried to come for him, but talking to Ambrose and Sabrina helped keep it at bay, at least for now.

"Well, I didn't listen to you and your nonsense, for one," Ambrose said. "Scratch wanted me to hang back, let him go it alone," he explained to Sabrina. "He also didn't want me to call in the backup I had to convince him to have waiting at the bottom of the mountain in the first place."

"I wondered why you were by yourself," Sabrina said to Nick. "Isn't it a sort of general rule that cops should enter active scenes in pairs if at all possible?"

"Ideally," Nick admitted. "But it was just Ambrose and I at that point, and someone needed to hang back to call for backup when it was time." He squeezed Sabrina's hand. "It was you in there, Sabrina. I wasn't thinking about much besides how to get you out of there safely."

"I told him not to do anything stupid," Ambrose supplied. "So he tightened the straps on his vest and was out of the car before I could stop him, his gun raised."

"We parked at the end of the drive," Nick told her, filling in the blanks. "We didn't want the sound of the car to cause Kinkle alarm. The slush from the sleet covered up my footsteps, and he left the door unlocked. It was easy for me to get inside without him noticing."

"I stayed back at the car long enough call in backup. I gave them orders to move in, which took a couple of minutes, tops, and then followed Nick. It may have felt like forever, but it was less than five minutes between the time Nick entered and the time he had Kinkle in cuffs."

"And then they stormed the place," Sabrina said. "I don't remember Harvey being taken out of the kitchen. I just remember trying to wake Nick up."

A heavy silence fell over them. All Nick could do to comfort her was offer another squeeze of her hand. Ambrose would never forget the way Sabrina had clung to Nick, begging him to wake up, or how she had broken down when Craig and Spriggs carried him out to the police car for transport. He had used all of his strength to hold onto her, keep her from going after them. He could still feel her, dead weight in his arms when she finally gave into her fears and collapsed in his arms.

"We had to transport you to meet an ambulance in the back of one of the cop cars," he told Nick, breaking the silence and stopping his own trip down memory lane. "They wanted to life flight you, but because of the weather, the helicopter couldn't fly. It's probably a good thing you were passed out the whole time. It couldn't have been a comfortable ride out of the mountains in the back of a cruiser."

"It all worked out," Nick mused, sensing Sabrina had heard enough. "I'm a little beat up, but I'm going to be okay, Kinkle is off the streets, and most importantly, this one," he nodded at Sabrina, "is safe and sound."

Ambrose stayed a while longer, making small talk, offering to pick up food, to check on Nick's house, anything at all he could do to help, feeling helpless all the while as he took in his detective, beaten up and weak, his cousin, exhausted, emotionally and physically. He noted that they never let go of the other's hand. He parted with a promise to visit the next day, and to Sabrina's chagrin, keep Nick posted on what was happening at the station. He left as a nurse entered.

"Good news, Detective Scratch, you get to eat a little something," she greeted.

"Hospital food," Nick said wryly. "I can hardly wait."

"It's not too bad," Sabrina assured him. She had eaten enough of it the last few days.

"Grilled cheese and tomato soup," the nurse confirmed. "Something hearty. Sabrina's right. Its not all that bad – certainly one of our better dishes. But before we bring you dinner, we need to change those bandages. Sabrina, do you want to wait in the hall?"

"No," Nick answered before she could protest. "She's okay here."

He found comfort in having her there. It wasn't even the fact that she was safe. It was the feeling of having someone by his side, someone that loved him. He wasn't too proud to admit that he was overwhelmed by being in the hospital, injured and in pain. He needed Sabrina, and she wanted to be there.

Tears burned his eyes as the nurse – Elsbeth, he thought Sabrina called her – worked as gently as she could to remove his bandages, clean his surgical wounds, and rebandage him. It hurt like hell, and he couldn't bring himself to look at the damage. Sabrina, however, watched closely, almost as though she were taking notes.

"All done," Elsbeth announced. "I know that wasn't especially pleasant, but your incisions and wound are healing nicely. How is the pain on a scale from one to ten, ten being the absolute worst?"

"A six," Nick answered, wincing. He found his ribs didn't hurt as much if he didn't move, but they were screaming now, having had no choice but to move just a bit for Elsbeth to bandage him.

"That's more like an eight in Scratch speak," Sabrina supplied, glaring at him. "Maybe even a nine."

"Let's try to get some dinner in you, then it will be time for more pain meds," Elsbeth said, agreeing with Sabrina that he was in more pain than he let on. As if on cue, an orderly arrived with his dinner. When they were alone, Sabrina perched on his bed and waited to see if he would ask for help.

"Ow," he winched as he tried to pick up a half of grilled cheese. "Damn ribs." He managed a couple of bites, then considered his soup. He sighed. The pain was enough to make his hand shake. There was no way he could manage to spoon hot soup into his mouth. He looked to Sabrina, knowing she was practically sitting on her hands to keep herself from helping. "You're up, Spellman."

She was there, patient as a saint, carefully feeding him soup, allowing him to feed himself what he wanted of the grilled cheese.

"I think I'm done," he said, settling back against the bed. "That's all I can manage."

"You sure?" she asked. "You've only had half of that grilled cheese and not much soup. You haven't touched," she picked up a syrup-packed fruit cup, "whatever this is." She put it down. "I'll take Ambrose up on his offer to bring food tomorrow, get you something better than this."

"The food isn't all that awful," he said. "I'm just not all that hungry. Honestly, I'm a little nauseous."

"It's the pain killers," Sabrina said knowingly. "I was reading up on side effects and nausea is one of them."

Before he could stop her, she had called the nurse's station and requested both his next round of painkillers and something for nausea. The same nurse, Elsbeth, came back in and swapped out his IV bag for a fresh one. He took the pill she offered and sighed in relief when she was gone, hopefully for a while.

"Do you need anything else?" Sabrina asked. "Water? Coffee?"

"No, I'm good," he shook his head and gave her a curious look. "What about you? Where's your dinner?"

"I'll get something in a few minutes," she dismissed. "I'm more worried about you right now."

"You have to take care of yourself, too, Sabrina," he reminded her. "Have you gone home since I've been in here?" Her silence was his answer. "I'm glad you're here, beautiful, but its okay for you to sleep in your own bed tonight. Dublin would be happy to see you. This is the longest she's ever been away from me."

"Dublin isn't going to want to see either of us after a few days with Aunt Hilda," Sabrina told him. "Prudence has the twins there a lot, too, and Dublin is rather partial to them. It's sweet, the way she lays wherever they are." She rested a hand on Nick's leg. "I'm not leaving you, Scratch. Not until you're leaving this hospital, too."

Selfishly, he was glad to hear her say that. He wanted her there, with him. He didn't want to be alone, but he also didn't want her to neglect herself.

"Just promise me you'll eat something?" he asked. "And try to get some sleep?"

"I will," she assured him. She leaned in to kiss him lightly. When she pulled away, something in her eyes had shifted. She looked vulnerable now, almost afraid. "I was so scared, Nick," she confessed. "Looking back, I wasn't afraid when I was confronting Harvey. I was resolute, determined to end this, but I wasn't afraid. But those hours between when you were shot and when I was finally able to see you, hold your hand in the recovery room? I have never been that scared in my life. I thought I was going to lose you, Nick."

She couldn't hold back the tears that filled her eyes.

Nick ignored his protesting ribs and the pain that shot through his shoulder as he pushed himself upright with his uninjured arm. She was more important than his discomfort. He reached for her.

"Come here." He pulled her into him as much as he could. "I'm okay," he promised. "I told you I would do everything I could to come home to you, and I did." He pressed a kiss to her hair, felt her tears on his bare shoulder. "It's over. All of this is over. You're safe. I'm safe. The people you love are safe. It's going to take a hell of a lot more than a gunshot to the shoulder to take me away from you, Spellman."

"Those were the longest hours of my life," she said. "I was terrified. They were talking about how much blood you had lost, how you needed emergency surgery to save you…"

"I felt the same way when I realized you had gone to confront Harvey," Nick told her. "I was sick on the stomach, knowing you had willingly walked into the arm of a murderer."

He couldn't hide how much the wave of pain that washed over him hurt this time. Sabrina noticed and sat up.

"You should be resting," she chastised. "Lay back, Scratch." She guided him back to his inclined pillows. "Better?"

"Not really," he confessed. He patted the narrow space beside him. "Lay with me?"

"No," Sabrina shook her head. "You're in too much pain."

"You can't hurt me," he said. "Lay down, Sabrina. Please. It'll make me feel better."

"Now who's going for the jugular?" she asked, even as she caved to the puppy dog eyes he was giving her. "The first sign of pain, and I'm getting out of this bed."

"That's fair," he agreed. There was an immediate sort of relief when her body was stretched alongside his, her lying on her side so she could face him and fit into the tight space. The physical pain didn't go away, but his body still seemed to relax with hern ear. He didn't try to put his arm around her, but took her hand in his.

"I'm sorry, Nick," she said softly. His brow furrowed.

"For what?"

"When I went to Harvey's, I knew I was doing the very thing that would hurt you the most, especially if I didn't make it. But I had to end his reign of terror, even if that meant he might take my life." She wiped at her eyes. "I wasn't going to go down without a fight, though. I wanted to live, Nick. I wanted to tell you I love you."

Tears burned at Nick's eyes.

"I love you, too," he choked out. "I know there's no use now in saying you should have come to me, but you should have. Who knows what would have happened, but me, Ambrose, the rest of the department… We would have taken Harvey out, one way or another. There was never a reason for you to put yourself in harm's way."

"I know that," Sabrina admitted. "But I felt so responsible." She shuttered. "I still feel responsible, from the Wardwells all the way to you, lying in this bed hurt and in pain. It's my fault."

"You are not responsible," Nick said firmly. "Not for the Wardwells, Cassius, Angela, Blackwood, Tommy, Theo, or me. You didn't do this, Sabrina. Harvey did. He will pay for his crimes."

"You weren't responsible for Amalia," she said softly, reminding him that he knew all too well how she felt.

"No," he agreed after a moment, "I wasn't." He squeezed her hand. "I wish I could hold you. That's what I really need right now – you in my arms, your head on my chest. I need to feel your heart beating against mine."

She heard the frustration in his voice. He was already starting to struggle with his limited mobility. The next several weeks would be hard, but she would be there, help him through.

"Will this work for now?" She took their joint hands and placed them over her heart. He closed his eyes and breathed out, his ribs protesting, as he felt the reassuring pulse of her heart pounding against his palm.

"For now," he agreed.

"I love you, Nick," she whispered.

"I love you, Sabrina." She kissed him again. "You'll get some dinner soon?"

"I will," she promised. She watched his eyelids growing heavy as the pain medicine took effect. "Rest, Nick. I'll still be here when you wake up."

"Hmmm…" he answered, sleep coming for him fast. "Dinner."

"Soon," she assured him. "Rest."

She watched him fall asleep, then focused on the steady rise and fall of his chest for several minutes. Careful not to wake him, she pulled the blankets down and surveyed the bruises left from where the bullets had hit his vest. A deep red and purple bruise bigger than her hand bloomed across his lower abdomen. Had the shot gone in, it would have blasted through his liver and other vital organs. Largely hidden by the bandages holding his shoulder in place was another deep and spreading bruise. That bullet would have gone through his heart.

More tears leaked from her eyes.

She had been so close to losing him.

She knew she should get out of bed, go find something to eat, maybe even dig through the bag Hilda had brought her earlier for a change of clothes. But she couldn't bring herself to move. She put her hand on his chest to feel it move under her hand as he breathed in and out. Her eyes fluttered shut, the events of the last few days finally catching up with her.

Elsbeth found them like that, Nick on his back, sound asleep, his right hand laced through Sabrina's, her other hand on his chest. She smiled, took out her phone, and snapped a quick photo. She texted it to Sabrina, then deleted it from her phone.

She slipped out, leaving them to sleep. A check of Nick's vitals could wait a little longer.


	26. Chapter 26

Nick was certain he had done harder things, but in that very moment, he couldn't recall a single one of them. Each step he took was measured, excruciating. He leaned heavily on his one crutch, hopped awkwardly, each hop jarring his broken ribs, his braced shoulder. He would just as soon ditch the crutch and navigate on one leg, but he needed to learn how to use it, or at least show the doctor he could so he could get out of there faster. It would be better than a wheelchair or the knee scooter they offered, at least.

With the pace of a turtle, he made it to his bed, convinced it had moved several feet further away from the bathroom than it had been when he got out of it. He took a big breath and started the slow process of positioning his body so he could get back into it.

"Are you supposed to be doing that, Detective Scratch?"

Zelda Spellman stood in his room, gift basket in her hands, wearing a look of disapproval that told him exactly which side of the family Sabrina got hers from.

"Technically, yes," he tried. "The doctor said I should be up and moving."

"Unsupervised?"

Sabrina got her arched, disapproving eyebrow from the Spellman side of her family, too.

"I made it to and from the bathroom unsupervised." He offered no more, dug deep, and worked to navigate himself into bed. "Ow!" he grunted as his ribs loudly voiced their displeasure and his shoulder outright screamed. He didn't understand how something that couldn't move could hurt so much. His foot, while it didn't feel great, was the least of his pain. "Son of a bitch!" he exhaled once he was back in bed.

"I would have offered to help, but I have a feeling you would have refused." Zelda sat the gift basket on his rolling hospital tray table. "I brought you a few things. No baked goods. That's Hilda's specialty. But there is plenty of junk food. Magazines. Coffee beans for when you're home. Things like that."

"Thank you," Nick said with a nod. His room was becoming a bit of a florist, with get well flowers and bouquets and baskets of treats covering nearly every surface. His mini fridge even housed a fruit arrangement. He appreciated each of them, but Zelda's meant a little more. While Hilda was warm and motherly, always at the ready with a hot meal or a kind word, Zelda was more formal, a little less affectionate, not because she didn't care, but because it wasn't her nature. "I appreciate it, Mayor Spellman. Truly."

"Don't you think it's high time you call me Zelda, Detective Scratch?" she asked.

"Wouldn't that make it time for you to call me Nick?" he countered.

"I'll work on it, Nicholas."

Nick chuckled, but immediately regretted it.

"Never get shot," he told her once the pain lessened. "Only Sabrina is worth this."

"Where is Sabrina anyway?" she asked. "I was under the impression that she hasn't left your side."

"I sent her to Cee's to get us cheeseburgers, fries, and milkshakes," Nick confessed. "I'm tired of hospital food."

"You needed a break from my niece," Zelda said knowingly. "Your secret is safe with me, Nicholas." She settled on the chair Sabrina had occupied for the last three days. "Did she tell you I had breast cancer?"

"No," Nick shook his head, wondering why Zelda had pulled that fact about herself seemingly out of thin air to share.

"I was diagnosed seven years ago, just after Sabrina graduated from college. I'm considered cured now, but it was scary for a while, with the surgeries and the treatments. Sabrina was all set to take off somewhere – anywhere but Greendale – and be a famous journalist, but between my illness and – him – she ended up not leaving. I protested, but secretly, I'm glad she stayed here."

"Me too," Nick quipped, drawing the smallest of smiles from Zelda.

"As happy as I was that she was here, she drove me absolutely insane during the worst of my battle," she confessed. "She hovered, tried to anticipate my every need, God forbid I try to have a few minutes alone. She would start in on how it wasn't good for me to be alone, how I needed my family around me. She did everything but sleep in my bed, and she did sleep in an armchair a few nights, when the chemo was just too much." She tilted her chin upward in a haughty sort of way. "We won't discuss what happened when she caught me with a martini and a cigarette the day after my last treatment."

"I have an idea," Nick said. "I tried to call Ambrose this morning to ask what was going on at the station and she threatened to break my other arm if it meant I would rest and not worry about work."

"That sounds like her," Zelda nodded. "You are in for an overdose of our dear Sabrina while you recover."

"She's been through a lot," Nick, said with a shake of his head. He doubted he would ever get enough of Sabrina, let alone too much of her, even when she was hovering and being a little too bossy. "It helps her to be here with me. At least I think it does."

"It does," Zelda confirmed. "She needs to take care of the people she loves, especially when she feels like she's not in control. She's a bit like Hilda in that way. And I believe you need her here as a well – and not just because of your injuries."

"True on all accounts," Nick admitted. "Before we knew Harvey was the killer, the only time I knew she was safe was when she was with me. It's still a little like that. We know the other is safe when we're together."

He wasn't a fool. He knew part of the reason Sabrina was refusing to go home while he was hospitalized was from a place of fear. She was afraid he would need her and she wouldn't be there, or that something would happen to him and he would be alone. It may have been irrational, but he understood it all the same. He felt the same way.

"It's been a terrible few months," Zelda said, letting her weariness show. "First the accident that took the girls from us, then the murders." She shook her head. "I still can't quite wrap my head around the idea that it was Harvey who did this. I was never all that fond of him, but I didn't think he was capable of something like this."

"The bad guy doesn't always look the part," Nick said. "I've arrested enough supposed nice guys to know that." He tapped his fingers of his good arm against his thigh. "The first time I met Sabrina, I asked her if Harvey was a threat. He tried to get her to talk to him, was a little too insistent for my liking. She said that he was a good guy, just an ex-boyfriend, nothing to worry about. I decided then that I didn't like him. There was something about him that made me uneasy, but I chalked it up to him being Sabrina's ex."

"Ambrose has said many times that you have good instincts," Zelda told him. "You should listen to them, trust them." She studied him for a few long moments. He shifted under her steady gaze. "You saved my niece, Nicholas. I owe you my life."

"No you don't," Nick shook his head. "Your niece is the love of my life. I was willing to do whatever it took to keep her safe. I will continue to do whatever it takes to keep her safe, make her happy." He chanced a small smile. "I do hope it doesn't involve me getting shot again, however."

Zelda couldn't help but chuckle just a little.

"Sabrina is special," she said, growing serious again. "She is so much like her mother in appearance, and she has Diana's way of loving another, all bold and fierce, but she reminds me, every single day, of her father, my brother. I lost Edward nearly three decades ago now, but sometimes, it feels like just yesterday." She shook her head. "Losing Faustus hurt, but losing Sabrina would have been more than I could stand. Thank you, Nicholas, for loving her enough to take a bullet for her."

"I would have given my life for her," he said solemnly.

He meant it. He would have sacrificed himself if it meant Sabrina lived. He very nearly had, from what he now knew. Had the bullet shifted just a fraction of an inch, it would have hit his brachial artery full on. He would have bled out before they ever got him to the ambulance. All the same, he had been hanging on by a thread when he was rushed into surgery. A lot of blood transfusions and the talented hands of a surgeon had made sure he woke up to Sabrina holding his hand. The fact that he could move the fingers on his left hand, a good sign of minimal nerve damage according to the orthopedic surgeon, was irrelevant when compared to that.

"I'm glad she has you, Nicholas," Zelda said. She smiled a bit more. "And if you run out of errands to send her on when you need just a few minutes of peace over the next several weeks, call me. I have a rather extensive list I can share from my own experience as Sabrina's patient."

Nick chuckled again, the laugh turning to a groan once more.

"I might end up taking you up on that," he said. "Honestly though? The peace and quiet was nice for about ten minutes. Then I started to miss her."

"That's how it goes," Zelda confirmed. "Although I think I usually waited until the half hour or so mark to miss her presence." Nick smiled, careful not to laugh again even though he wanted to. Sabrina had convinced him early on that she was the center of his world, but he now knew Zelda's had rotated around her for years. He was sure Hilda felt similar. "I should be on my way," Zelda decided. "Mayoral duties call, even on a Saturday. Tell Sabrina I stopped by?"

"I will," Nick promised. "Thank you again for the basket, Mayor… Zelda."

"We'll get there," Zelda said with a fond smile. "Take care of yourself, Detective… Nicholas." She winked at him. His smile grew as he again fought down the desire to laugh again. "I want you back on your feet and patrolling this town soon."

"I'll be back on beat soon enough," Nick promised. "Maybe you don't mention the bathroom excursion to Sabrina, though? I'm not really supposed to try that without supervision."

"Your secret is safe with me," Zelda assured him. "Get some rest. And enjoy the peace and quiet while you can."

He tried to take advantage of the few quiet moments once she was gone, but he hadn't been lying when he said he missed Sabrina a few minutes after her departure. He knew she would be back soon, but he still reached for his cell phone. He winced as he stretched for it, then settled back against the pillows once more. He fumbled with the phone to unlock it and his typing was slow with one hand, but he tapped out a message to Sabrina.

_ETA on the burgers? _

_Miss me, Scratch? _she replied almost instantly.

_I miss edible food. _

_Ha ha. I'll be there in ten minutes. Leaving Cee's now. He sent extra fries. And coffee._

He put his phone down in the bed next to him and turned on the TV, searching for something – anything – to distract him. He settled on a history documentary that he knew Sabrina would pretend to hate, but then get sucked into it and ask a hundred questions about it as it progressed. He would get slightly annoyed, but also not mind at all.

He checked the time on his phone and sighed.

Nine more minutes.

But who was counting?

"Things are looking good, Detective Scratch." Luke made a note in Nick's chart. "Your x-rays from this morning looked good, and the incisions are healing well. Your pain seems to be managed – and orally at that – and you're able to move around on your own well enough, if not all that graceful. I think we can send you home tomorrow, barring any surprises overnight."

"Any chance I can convince you to send me home tonight?" Nick asked hopefully.

"No," Sabrina chimed in from her spot in the room's vinyl armchair. "In fact, I wonder if tomorrow is too soon…"

"There's no reason to keep him past tonight," Luke said with a shake of his head. "He will heal better in his own home, and we're here should anything arise. Detective Scratch, I've said it before, but you were very lucky. I do ask that you take better care of that shoulder than you did your foot."

"I'll see what I can do," Nick replied dryly. "When is my foot surgery?" He was already trying to calculate how long it would be until he could walk without a boot or the aid of crutches.

"We will schedule that at your follow up appointment for your shoulder next week," Luke answered. "I think I know the answer to my next question, but will there be someone to stay with you when we discharge you?"

"Of course," Sabrina answered. "I'll be with him."

Luke smiled and made another note in Nicks chart.

"That's what I thought," he said. "Any questions for me, Detective?"

"How soon can I break out of here tomorrow?" he asked

"Are you that tired of us?" Luke countered.

"I've been in here four days," Nick said. "I've overstayed my welcome."

"You were basically unconscious for two of them," Sabrina reminded him.

"No earlier than ten," Luke answered. "That's the earliest we discharge folks. I'll see what I can do about making sure you're one of the first patients out of here though." He took a sheath of papers from Nick's chart. "These are your preliminary discharge instructions. We will go over them in detail in the morning as well as any changes I may end up making, but I like to give my patients the chance to review them so they can have any questions ready."

"Thank you, Dr. Chalfant," Nick nodded.

Sabrina had the discharge papers in her hands the moment Luke left the room.

"It says you have to ice both your shoulder and your foot at regular intervals," she read. "They're going to send you home with an ice therapy machine for your shoulder, which will be helpful. You have to keep the foot elevated, the boot on. Use your crutches, well, crutch. You won't be able to use both, obviously, and I still think you're being ridiculous by refusing a wheelchair. The same goes for your shoulder and the sling – you're going to be in that sling for at least six weeks, it looks like, and will start physical therapy soon. You'll have pain medication to take as needed, both an over the counter pill and a prescription for something stronger when necessary. You've got exercises for your foot…"

"Sabrina," Nick tried.

"You have some follow up appointments already scheduled, starting with one with the orthopedic surgeon next week – that must be when they're going to schedule your foot surgery. There's a consult with physical therapy right after it…"

"Sabrina."

"We'll obviously go to your house," she continued. "The mortuary has so many stairs, both to get to the front door and then to get upstairs. You'll be more comfortable at your house anyway. It's certainly quieter there than it is with my aunts and Ambrose in and out all the time…"

"Sabrina!"

She stopped.

"What?" she asked. "Do you need something?"

"I need you to put those papers down and come sit," he directed. "You're spiraling out and I'm trying to stop you before you spin out of control."

"I am not spiraling…"

"Beautiful, you are." He looked at her with serious eyes. "Please, come sit down. Minus the discharge papers."

She put the papers down and came to Nick. He patted the mattress, indicating again that he wanted her to sit. She perched gingerly beside him

"What, Nick?" she pressed.

"I love you," he started. "I love that you're here, taking care of me, helping me. I love that you're going to stay with me when I get out of here tomorrow. But right now, I need you to stop moving for a minute. You have been a whirlwind all morning. All four days I've been in here, really. Sit down for a few minutes. Relax. I know there is no chance in convincing you to go home and sleep in your own bed tonight instead of wedged beside me in this tiny hospital bed, so please, just sit for a minute and be with me."

"I am with you, Nick, but you're going home tomorrow. We need to…"

"Sit," he said again. "Relax." He reached out his hand to take hers. His body protested the movement, but he needed to touch her, ground her. "Talk to me."

"I've been talking to you for the last four days…"

"Sabrina, talk to me," he coaxed. "I know there's a lot going on in that head of yours. You've seen a lot. Been through a lot. You're not okay. No one would be okay after what's happened to you. Talk to me."

He let her sit with her thoughts, sorting and gathering them. He watched her patiently, waited for her to talk to him about whatever she wanted or needed to talk to him about, even if it ended up being the weather. She covered their clasped hand with her free hand.

"I feel – relieved," she said eventually. "Relieved that it's over, that you're going to be okay, that Theo is going to be okay." She hesitated. "That I lived." Nick squeezed her hand in agreement. "I'm sad, because so many people died because of a vendetta Harvey had against my dad. I'm trying to make sense of it all." She sighed heavily. "I feel like I have to do something to make it right."

"You feel like you have to take care of me," Nick supplied. "To make up for what has happened to me."

"I want to take care of you, Nick, as much as you'll let me, anyway…"

"I know that," Nick said patiently, because he did. "I want you to know you don't _have _to. You are not obligated to hang around my house waiting for me to need something because of what Harvey did."

"But I want…"

"Listen to me," Nick interrupted. "I want you with me. I do, Sabrina. But I want _you. _I don't need you to wait on me hand and foot out of obligation or duty or guilt. I just want you, hanging around my house with me, watching those awful reality TV shows you like and drinking tea and maybe making out like teenagers once in a while. I don't want you there because you have to make up for something."

"You saved me, Nick," she said softly. "Harvey would have killed me if you hadn't shown up."

"I told you I would keep you safe," Nick reminded her. "And that I would do everything I could to come home to you. I would do it all again in a heartbeat."

"There's just so much, Nick…"

Her armor finally cracked then. Her eyes filled with tears.

"I know," he soothed. Because he knew all too well what she was feeling. "Can I make a suggestion?" She looked at him and nodded as she used her free hand to wipe away tears. "Talk to someone, Sabrina. A therapist. A year ago, I would have scoffed at the idea, but mine helped me." He hesitated for a moment. "I still talk to her once a month, for a check-in. She helped me deal with some hard stuff and I know she's going to help me in the coming weeks, too."

"I'll ask Theo for a recommendation," she agreed. Nick nodded his approval. She moved so she could sit beside him. They had gotten good, quickly, at sharing his narrow hospital bed, even with his injuries. She gingerly rested her head on his uninjured shoulder, their hands still linked. "Thank you, Nick, for being there."

He knew what she meant. She wasn't just thanking him for being there to save her from Harvey. She was thanking him for loving her. Supporting her. Encouraging her to talk to a professional. He pressed a kiss to her hair.

"I love you, beautiful."

"I love you, Scratch," she replied. She kissed him back on the lips. "You really think we're going to be doing a lot of making out with you in your current state?"

"I do," he confirmed. "It will help me heal faster." Sabrina rolled her eyes, but smiled. "But first…" She raised an eyebrow. He smiled. "Want to take a nap?"

"Sleepy?" she asked, a smile playing at her lips.

"A little," he admitted. He found he got tired easily, thanks to the pain medicine, the physical therapy he had already started, the work his body was doing to heal, even the revolving door of visitors. At least half of Greendale had came to visit. "Nap with me."

"When you say it like that…" She toed off her loafers. "How could I say no?"

"Sit up for a second," Nick directed. "I want to try something." She gave him a skeptical look, but did as he asked. He hissed as he moved his arm away from his body.

"Nick…

"It's just my ribs," he said with a shake of his head, pushing through the movement. "Now, lay back down." She realized what he was doing. He was opening his arm for her to assume her favorite position, her head on his chest, her body close to his.

"I don't know, Scratch..."

"Lay down, Sabrina," he said again. "The pain isn't bad." She was careful as she maneuvered herself beside him without further protest. He breathed through the sharp stabs of pain as he moved his arm around her, working to hide just how much the effort to hold her was hurting him. "Put your head on my chest. Don't cheat me out of properly holding you when I've gotten this far, Spellman."

"If I'm hurting you…"

"You could never hurt me." He swore his whole body sighed in relief when she was in his arms. "There it is."

"I missed this," she admitted. "It's only been a few days, but…"

"I've gotten used to you in my bed, Spellman." He kissed the top of her head. "I don't plan on ever letting you out of it."

For the first time since he was shot, she fell asleep first.


	27. Chapter 27

"How does it feel to be home?"

Nick smiled at the image of Sabrina standing in the doorway of his living room, looking like she belonged there.

"So good." He ran his hand over Dublin's fur. She seemed to sense he was hurt. She had greeted Sabrina with her usual bravado, but she had been gentle with him, sniffing him then bumping her nose against his hand in greeting instead of jumping on him at full speed. She had remained nearby since he crutched through the door. "My girl, my dog, my couch… I almost don't mind being out of commission."

"Almost," Sabrina repeated. "That's the key word there, isn't it?"

"The desire to walk up all four of my porch stairs is strong," he confessed. He had been steadfast in resisting a wheelchair, but with his left arm in a sling and his left foot in a boot, using just one crutch to navigate the porch stairs had proven difficult. "I really am sorry about being a dick earlier." He had snapped at her as she tried to help him up the stairs, and despite how she had worked to cover it up and continue to help him, he knew he had hurt her feelings. "You didn't deserve that."

"You're allowed to be a dick right now," she said, crossing the room to him.

"Not to you," he shook his head. She perched on the coffee table, next to where his foot was packed with ice. A specialized ice pack was wrapped around his shoulder, an ice therapy machine humming along quietly next to the couch. "I hope you're about to tell me I can take all of this ice off."

"Until the next allotted icing time, two hours from now," Sabrina confirmed. She carefully removed the ice from around his foot. With gentle hands, she navigated him back into his boot and tightened it. "How does that feel?"

"As good as an orthopedic boot can feel," he quipped. Sabrina gave him a look, but moved to his side.

"I'll be as gentle as I can," she said as she reached for the straps that would loosen the wrap from around his shoulder. "I know it hurts." Nick bit his lip and couldn't stop the hiss that came from him as she removed the wrap. "I'm sorry," she apologized. She hated doing this to him. "We're almost done." He swallowed hard. His shoulder was throbbing and while he was certain his ribs hurt less, they still didn't feel great. Even as Sabrina did everything she could to ease his pain, it still hurt blindly. "Now we put the sling back…"

"Be careful," he grunted, even though he knew she would be.

"I will," she promised. She tried her best to bring the strap around his neck and fasten back into place without jostling his shoulder too much. She had thought in the hospital when they were practicing with the machine to mark where on the strap the fastener went to avoid several adjustments of the strap which would only hurt him more. It was a stroke of genius that helped make the process quicker. "There."

Nick exhaled in relief and tried to get comfortable again.

"I hurt like hell," he admitted. "Mostly my shoulder."

"Rethinking your status on pain medication?" Sabrina asked. Nick shook his head.

"I'm not taking the prescription stuff until closer to bedtime. It knocks me on my ass and I'm tired of sleeping all day."

Sabrina checked the time.

"You can have more ibuprofen."

"Please," he nodded. Sabrina kissed his forehead. She was back with the pills almost as soon as she left. "Thank you, beautiful." He took the pills and the water bottle she brought him. She settled in next to him, kicking her feet up on the coffee table next to his. "I should make Dublin move," he observed. "I can't touch you if you're sitting on this side of me."

"I think you can make it a few minutes," she replied. "It's almost dinnertime, anyway, and Nicholas Scratch, your kitchen could not be more stocked if it tried. Name what you want to eat and I bet you its in there." His brow furrowed.

"Who stocked my kitchen?"

She shook her head a bit, in disbelief that he still didn't quite understand how Greendale worked.

"Everyone, Nick. The neighbors dropped off all sorts of dishes and baked goods, and you've lost your mind if you think Aunt Hilda didn't do her worst – or in this case, her best? – when she dropped Dublin off for us earlier. There is more food in there than we will ever eat, in the fridge, the pantry, even on the counter."

"People did that?" he asked. "Why?"

Sabrina shook her head again.

"Scratch, you arrested the person responsible for terrorizing this community. You made this place safe again, and got shot several times in the process. You're a real local hero, whether you want to be or not. Greendale has even made the national news. Ambrose has done a brilliant job in keeping the press from bothering you, but I imagine there are a number of reporters that want a word with you when you're feeling up to it."

"You were the one that solved this case," he reminded her. "Not me."

"I filled in a missing gap on a family tree," Sabrina dismissed. "You, Scratch, put your life on the line to stop Harvey. You put your life on the line every single day."

"We will have to agree to disagree on this," he said. "I can't believe people did that…" She smiled and ran her hand through his hair.

"This isn't like New York, where everyone minds their own business," she reminded him. "We take care of our neighbors here. They have even rallied around Mr. Kinkle, in spite of his son being the killer. They know he's innocent."

"How is he doing, anyway?" Nick asked.

"Not good," Sabrina admitted. "I don't know how you recover from what he's gone through. His wife was someone else and she killed their toddler son. Then his middle son killed his oldest son and several more people. He's all alone now. I don't know how he goes on."

"I want to talk to him," Nick decided. "Soon. I don't know what I'm going to say, but I want to talk to him, let him know he's not at fault."

"You're a good guy, Scratch." She kissed him lightly.

"As for the press, I'm only interested in talking to one reporter." Sabrina's smile grew. "A local one that's done a lot of work on the case, done a good job reporting the facts, has been driving me absolutely crazy for a while now…" He grinned. "Can you get me Hunter Tucker's phone number?"

"Hey!" she protested. Nick chuckled, but immediately regretted it when his ribs protested. "That's what you get," she informed him without remorse.

"Forget Hunter Tucker," he said with a shake of his head. "There's this other Greendale reporter… I've got a huge crush on her…"

"If you say Hazel Minnow, I'm going to punch you in your good arm," she played along, referring to the only other reporter on the paper's staff, an older woman nearing retirement who only contributed a few articles a week. "Remember, you're at my mercy, Scratch."

"You have always go the excusive with me," he told her. "Later this coming week, we'll talk, detective to reporter." Sabrina nodded, her mind already spinning with an angle, even the idea of a series. "Seal that with a kiss?" She leaned over and kissed him squarely. "I'm going to figure out how I can get to agree to do other things with me…" She rolled her eyes.

"I think we both have a period of celibacy ahead of us, at least for a few weeks while you heal," she told him.

"Nah…" He indicated he wanted another kiss. "I'll wear you down."

"So you think." She gave him the kiss he wanted. "You may have had more willpower than me before we finally got naked, but you haven't seen what I'm capable of when my boyfriend is injured."

"Challenge accepted," Nick quipped. His phone rang out. He looked for it. It was on the coffee table, just out of reach.

"I've got it." Sabrina stood so she could reach it. She read the screen. "It's your Nonna's care center."

"Answer it," he directed.

"Detective Scratch's phone?" she answered. Nick made a face mocking her answer. She made one back. "Hi!" she lit up. "Yes, he's here. Hold on just a moment." She held the phone out. "Looks like your Nonna is having a good day."

He grabbed for the phone, ignoring how his body protested the movement.

"Hello?" he greeted. "Hi, Marcy." Sabrina sat back down, listening to Nick's side of the conversation. "I'm doing okay, yeah," he replied. "I'm out of commission for at least a few weeks, but I'll be fine." More listening. "That was my girlfriend, Sabrina. She's staying with me, helping me." He chuckled a bit. "No, ma'am, I'm not alone." Another pause. "I'd love to talk to her. Does she – know anything?" Sabrina watched as Nick listened, then nodded his head slowly. "Okay. Put her on."

He moved the phone away from his ear and hit the speaker button. Sabrina sat forward a bit, anxious to hear Nick's grandmother's voice. To her knowledge, she was his only living relative.

"Nicky?"

Sabrina watched Nick's face shift into something akin to relief.

"Hi, Nonna," he replied. "How are you feeling?"

"You… News… Shot…"

She struggled to string words together, but Sabrina could see the patience in Nick as he nodded along.

"I was shot," he confirmed. "But I'm okay – I'm going to be okay. I just need to spend some time letting my shoulder heal, but I'm going to fine." He downplayed his injuries for her sake. "Don't worry about me."

"I… Worry… Job… Dangerous…"

"I know you worry," Nick soothed. "But I'm okay, Nonna. I promise."

"Alone?" she asked. Nick smiled.

"I'm not alone," he assured her. "I have a girlfriend, Nonna. Sabrina. I've told you about her. She's here with me…"

"Girl?" The woman interrupted. Nick chuckled a bit.

"A girlfriend, yes. Her name is Sabrina. I'm going to bring her to meet you soon. You will love her almost as much as I do."

"You… Love…"

"I love her," Nick confirmed, eyes on Sabrina. She smiled at him. "She's incredible, Nonna. She's everything you have ever wanted for me."

Tears sprung to Sabrina's eyes. Nick winked at her, because it was all he could do.

"Bring… Her…"

"I'm going to visit soon," he promised. "With Sabrina."

"She… With… You…"

"I'll bring her with me," Nick confirmed patiently. "She's here with me now, actually. She's taking care of me with my injuries."

"Good."

Nick chuckled again. He looked at Sabrina, then hit the mute button.

"Want to say hi to her?" he asked.

"I would love that," Sabrina nodded. "What do I call her, though?" He shrugged.

"Call her Nonna." Sabrina shook her head.

"What's her last name?"

"Rossi…"

"I'll call her Mrs. Rossi, then." Nick unmuted the phone

"Nonna, Sabrina is here. She wants to say hi."

"Hi, Mrs. Rossi," Sabrina said, not entirely sure what to say. "How are you…"

"Nicky… Hurt…"

"I'm taking good care of him," Sabrina replied. "Your grandson is very brave, Mrs. Rossi." Nick looked sheepish. "He saved my life."

"Loves… You…"

"He does," Sabrina smiled, her eyes on Nick. "I love him, too." She squeezed Nick's knee. "He's the best guy I know."

"Alice? Is that you?" she replied. Beside her, Nick sighed.

"The lucidness is coming to an end," he told Sabrina. "Nonna? It's Nick…"

"Nicky? Where… your mom…?"

"Mr. Scratch?" came the same voice that had been on the phone when Sabrina answered. "I'm afraid she's slipped off…"

Nick took the phone off speaker. Sabrina stayed by his side as he wrapped up the phone call, confirming again that he was okay and that he would be down to visit soon, with his girlfriend. He ended the call and let his head fall back to the couch.

"You okay?" Sabrina asked gently.

"Yeah," Nick sighed. "I'm grateful for every time I get to talk to her, even for a few minutes. She's 96. I know the reality is that she won't be here much longer. But it still stings a little when she goes from knowing who I am to asking where my mom is or thinking I'm my grandpa, especially when she so rarely knows who I am these days."

"Alice is your mom?" she asked.

"Alice is my mom," Nick confirmed. "My dad's name was also Nicholas. I'm technically a second."

"Is Nonna your only family?" she asked carefully. In the moment, she felt guilty for not knowing more about Nick's extended family.

"I've got some cousins, a couple of aunts and uncles, all on my dad's side. Mom was an only child. I hear from them once in a while, but I don't see them often. I never really have. My dad's parents passed long before I was born, and with him living in New York and his sisters living elsewhere, they weren't especially close. Nonna and Nonno – my grandpa – had me from birth, but Mom had already told them what they planned to name me. Nonno passed when I was ten, so it's really just been me and Nonna for most of my life."

"What's your middle name?" Sabrina pressed.

"Anthony," he answered.

"Nicholas Anthony Scratch, the second," she said. "I really love the sound of that."

"Yours is 'Diana,'" he said. "I heard Ambrose use it when you two were arguing about something stupid over breakfast at the mortuary one morning."

"Diana, after my mom," she confirmed. "You know all of my family. Ambrose's parents live in England, but that's about it."

Nick opened his mouth to make a confession, but he was interrupted by a knock at his door. Dublin sat up, but didn't bark.

"Who is that?" Nick wondered.

"I don't know. I'll go check." Dublin followed Sabrina to the door, her tail wagging. Sabrina peered through the peephole and smiled. She should have known. She told Dublin to sit and stay, then swung open the door. "What are you all doing here?"

"You didn't think we were going to let you and Nicholas fend for yourselves your first night home, now did you?" Zelda asked.

"We certainly weren't going to let you miss Thanksgiving," Hilda added. "A few days late, but we have all the trimmings."

"If Nick is up for it," Ambrose added with a warning look at his aunts. "If he would rather us leave the food and go, we will."

"Swear," Prudence added. She stood on the sidewalk, a baby in a car seat on either side of her. "I will court order it if I have to." Dublin whined at her side, eager to greet their visitors.

"I don't think that will be necessary," Sabrina said with a smile. "Come in." She pushed open the door. "Voran," she added for Dublin who was all too happy to spring to her feet and make a beeline for Hilda who laughed and promised the dog turkey as the group wandered in towards the kitchen, all laden with food. She watched Prudence wrap a hand around each of the car seats. "I'll help, Prudence."

"Thank you," Prudence said with clear relief. "Ambrose is a huge help, but he's got the turkey…"

"It's a really admirable thing you're doing, Prudence," Sabrina said sincerely. "I know these last several weeks haven't been easy for you, either."

"It suddenly doesn't matter who won Homecoming Queen anymore, does it?" she asked. Sabrina shook her head.

"It really doesn't." They smiled at one another. "Let's go inside, save Nick from the aunties as much as we can."

Sabrina brought Leticia inside while Prudence carried Judas, or, Sabrina corrected herself, James, as they had taken to calling him, preferring to use his middle name.

"We have visitors," Sabrina said, sitting the car seat down in the living room, Prudence with her.

"Visitors that will leave if you don't want us around," Ambrose said, appearing behind them. "Seriously, Nick, if you want to rest or just be alone with Sabrina, say the word. We'll go."

Nick shook his head.

"Stick around," he directed. "I've got a shirt on for the first time in days, may as well be dressed up for something."

Ambrose laughed. Sabrina rolled her eyes. She was dreading helping Nick out of the gray t-shirt he wore later on. Getting it on in the hospital had been so painful for him that she had seriously considered asking Luke to keep him another few days.

"I hope you're hungry, Nicholas," Hilda said, floating into the room. "I've made a feast. Cee is on the way with ice cream. Can't have pecan pie without vanilla ice cream, can we? And he wanted to help with dinner, the dear. I'm just going to heat things up, and we will be ready to eat."

"Thank you, Hilda," Nick said.

"Of course, dear." She winked and skipped out of the room.

"She's never going to call me Nick, is she?" Nick asked.

"Never," Ambrose confirmed. "Zelda, either."

"Sabrina?" Zelda called. "Where are the pot holders?" There was a crash. "Never you mind! I found them!"

"I'm going to go make sure they don't destroy anything," Sabrina said. "You," she pointed at Ambrose, "make sure that one," she pointed at Nick, "doesn't do anything stupid."

"History shows he doesn't exactly listen to me," Ambrose said cheekily.

"Fine," she retorted. "Prudence is in charge. Of both of you."

"Now we're talking," Prudence said, James in her arms. "Behave yourselves, gentleman."

Sabrina's trek to the kitchen was thwarted by another knock on the door. She swung it open without looking, expecting Cee, but was surprised to find Theo standing there, Billy next to him, holding a pie. Roz stood on the sidewalk behind them, another pie in hand, looking uncertain.

"Theo!" She hugged Theo carefully, cognizant of his own shoulder sling. "I'm so glad you're here."

"Zelda invited us," Theo explained. "I, of course, was happy to come – any excuse to eat Hilda's cooking." Sabrina heard what Theo was trying to tell her. Roz wasn't sure she should be there. "Everyone is inside?"

"My aunties are destroying the kitchen, Ambrose is keeping Nick company, and Prudence is babysitting the both of them as well as the babies," Sabrina answered. "Go inside, put the pie down, and help Prudence, maybe. She has her hands full, but not with the tiny humans."

She greeted Billy with a brief hug as he passed, then stepped outside and walked down the porch stairs to Roz.

"Hi," Roz greeted softly. "I wasn't sure… I can leave…"

"Why would you leave?" Sabrina asked.

"I… Harvey…"

Sabrina shook her head.

"Did you kill any of those people?" she asked.

"No…"

"Did you know Harvey was guilty?"

"No." She was more confident this time. "I swear, Sabrina. I've told the police… I had absolutely no idea… I just thought he was upset…"

"I believe you," Sabrina told her. "I never doubted you. None of us thought Harvey was capable of doing something like this." She stepped forward and wrapped Roz in a hug. "I'm so sorry, Roz. I know this must be hard for you, too."

The pie in Roz's hand teetered precariously as Roz hugged her back tightly. They cried together, for all that was lost and the lies they both believed about someone they had loved. Sabrina was the one that pulled away first.

"Come on," she said, taking Roz's hand. "Let's go inside, make sure my boyfriend isn't doing something he's not supposed to be, and eat something." She saw Cee's car roll to a stop and waved to him. "The gang is all here, just as it should be."

She sat beside Nick on the couch as they ate, a tray over his lap. He had gotten better at feeding himself with one hand, but she was there, in case. The small house felt packed to the gills, but not in a bad way, someone perched on every available surface, Prudence and Ambrose on the floor, the twins between them on a blanket, cooing happily. Nick smiled at how happy Sabrina was to have the people she loved around her, felt his stomach do a weird sort of flip when she picked up Leticia to feed her. When everyone left a couple of hours later, the house felt empty.

Sabrina walked into the living room with a cup of coffee for Nick and a mug of tea for herself. She observed him as she approached, noted that he seemed deep in thought. He had grown quieter over the course of the evening, and she had noticed.

"Coffee?"

His smile was genuine.

"Thank you, beautiful." She sat down with him and passed him his mug. "Dublin go out okay?"

"She was as perfect as always," Sabrina confirmed, glancing at where Dublin lay in a nearby chair, exhausted from the afternoon, her stomach full of Hilda's scraps and whatever crumbs the babies may have left. "What about you, Scratch? You've been quiet this last little while."

He took his time putting his words together.

"I liked that," he admitted. "Your family, having them all here." He looked almost embarrassed. "I've never really had that – a big, loud family to celebrate holidays with. I've never really had any of this – a community that cares, a girlfriend that loves me enough to drop everything in the name of taking care of me. I like it."

"Oh, Nick."

Her heart went out to him. He hadn't grown up without love, but he had grown up in a busy metropolis with a very small family unit. In that moment, she was so grateful for Greendale and the way her life worked out that it nearly hurt.

"But more than that…" She watched his fingertips drum against his leg and waited for whatever he was about to share. "You know this is forever, right? Me and you? At least it is for me. It was all I could think about today, even before your family got here. How this, me, you… It's forever. Watching you with the twins, I thought about how good those babies looked in your arms, how I want that with you. I know I'm making some big confessions, and we've only known each other a few months, but I know how I feel, and I thought you should know, too."

Sabrina could only kiss him, her tea sloshing dangerously.

"I hate to tell you, Scratch, but you're stuck with me," she informed him when she pulled away. "You have been since you pulled that quarter out of my ear."

"And all it cost me was a milkshake," he quipped, making Sabrina laugh. She grew serious though as she settled in beside him, on his good side.

"I hope you want a big family, Nick," she said. "You get the gang that just left here, for one, but I've always wanted several kids. Ambrose is the closest thing I have to a brother, but we've only gotten close in the last several years. Growing up, I would have given anything to have a brother or a sister to play with, share secrets with… I want that for my own kids."

It was Nick that kissed her this time.

"I want that too," he told her. "I used to wish for a baby to show up on our doorstep like they do in movies so I could have a brother or a sister, someone to talk to, someone who got what it was like not to have parents. I've always wanted a big family of my own."

"You know our kids will probably be absolute hellions, right?" Sabrina asked. "Neither of us exactly back down from a fight."

"We'll just have to outlast them," Nick mused. "We're both pretty stubborn, Spellman. I think we could do it if we combine our powers."

"They're all going to look like you," Sabrina said. "Those Italian genes are going to be hard for my fair skin and blonde hair to override."

"They'll be beautiful babies," Nick declared, making Sabrina laugh. He nudged her. "We could practice, you know," he said with a suggestive glint in his eye, "that whole baby making thing…"

"Look at you, using my hopes and dreams to get me into bed," Sabrina teased. "Sorry, Detective, but it's not going to work out for you." She kissed him all the same. "You need to heal."

"What's my celibacy timeline looking like?" he inquired.

"It's not as much fun when you're on the other side of the shut down coin, is it?" she asked, eyes sparkling. "We'll play it by ear, but at minimum, you're going to be able to take a deep breath without wincing."

Nick tried to pull in a breath to prove that he could.

"Ah!" he grunted as his ribs pained him.

"That was a good try, though," Sabrina said seriously. Nick grinned.

"I'll convince you," he said.

"You keep working on that, Scratch. But for now, its past time for you to ice those appendages again." She kissed him and stood. "Need anything else while I'm up?"

"I wouldn't hate pain killers," he confessed. "The good ones. For all my efforts at pretending, I think it might be time."

"I think so, too," Sabrina agreed. "You aren't as good at hiding it as you think." She smiled at him. "I'll be right back."

Nick picked up the remote and turned on the TV. The first Christmas movie of the season played out on TV, but in his mind's eye, the movie he saw wasn't of a family in a car, road tripping to cut down a Christmas tree It was of he and Sabrina, a little ways down the road, a family of their own, gathered around the living room on Christmas morning.

He liked what he saw.


	28. Chapter 28

Nick took a big breath and pushed open the door. He had gotten pretty good at navigating on his knee scooter, all things considered. It was ultimately a compromise between himself, his surgeon, and Sabrina and he begrudgingly had to admit it made things a lot easier than trying to navigate on one crutch and it wasn't a wheelchair. He wheeled through the door, hoping against hope he would find his grandmother in a lucid state. She was seated in a chair near her window, a shawl around her shoulders. She looked older than he remembered, but it had been several months since he seen her last.

"Nonna."

She turned. Her eyes lit up.

"Nicky!"

"Hi, Nonna." He wheeled to her side and leaned over to kiss her cheek. "How are you feeling today?"

"You… Hurt!" She waved at his shoulder and his scooter. "Happened?"

"I'm going to be okay," he said patiently. "I got hurt at work…"

"Shot," she cut in, giving him a sharp look.

"I was shot," he confirmed. "I had surgery on my shoulder, then had foot surgery a couple of weeks ago. I'm on this scooter for a few weeks, but I'm going to be okay."

"Good."

"Nonna, there's someone I want you to meet."

She looked hopeful.

"A girl?"

He chuckled.

"A girl," he confirmed. "Her name is Sabrina. I told you about her a few weeks ago."

"She… The girl?"

"She's the girl," Nick confirmed. "She's pretty special, Nonna. I want you to meet her. I know you will love her."

"Bring… Her…"

"I'll be right back." He turned and wheeled himself out of the room. He found Sabrina in the hall, waiting patiently. "Ready to meet my Nonna, beautiful?"

"I am." She pushed herself off the wall she was leaning on.

"She seems pretty lucid," he told her, trying to prepare Sabrina. "She didn't remember I was shot, or about me telling her about you. You may have to repeat yourself, and she speaks in broken sentences…"

"Nick," Sabrina cut him off with a gentle hand to his chest. "You don't have to explain. I just want to meet her."

He was nervous, she knew. It was important to him that she meet his grandmother, but he was self-conscious about the fact that her memory was fleeting, her words broken. She didn't care. She was Nick's Nonna, and that was the only thing that mattered.

"She will love you," Nick promised. "I know she will."

"Then lead the way, Scratch." She let him open the door, but he stopped just inside. "Nick?" He carefully pushed himself to a stand. "Nick, you can't…"

"I want to introduce you to Nonna on my own two feet," he told her. "It's important to me, Sabrina. I want to stand proud beside you, not roll in on this damned thing."

She wondered how she didn't turn into a puddle at his sweet words.

"Can I at least help you to her?" she asked. Nick smiled ruefully.

"You're going to have to, beautiful."

He put an arm around her shoulders. She looped hers around his waist. He leaned on her for support and slowly, they made their way to where Nick's grandmother sat watching them curiously.

"Nonna," Nick said, "this is my girlfriend, Sabrina. Sabrina, this is my Nonna."

"It's wonderful to meet you, Mrs. Rossi," Sabrina said, putting her hand over the old woman's veiny hand. "Nick talks about you all the time."

Nonna studied her with dark eyes that reminded her of Nick. Behind her, Nick held his breath, certain Nonna would love Sabrina, less certain that she was still lucid enough to know what was going on.

"Bella," she finally said. She looked past Sabrina to Nick. "Bella." Nick smiled in relief.

"Bella," he agreed. "She's beautiful." He hobbled to Sabrina's side, wincing a bit as his foot panged. "She's the best that's ever happened to me."

"Your grandson is pretty wonderful," Sabrina said, her eyes on Nick, a soft smile on her lips. "And the pizza you taught him how to make is incredible."

"Pizza," Nonna nodded in understanding.

"She hasn't quite gotten the hang of shaping the dough," Nick said. "But she's getting there." Sabrina noted how he leaned heavily on his right side.

"You need to sit, Scratch," she declared. "Off the foot." She helped him to the armchair opposite his Nonna and then perched on the arm. "How is your pain?"

"I'm okay," he said. "Really, Sabrina."

"She… Care… You…" Nonna said, lifting her hand to wave a finger at Sabrina. Nick smiled and nodded.

"She takes care of me," he confirmed. "I give her a run for her money, but she usually comes out ahead."

"You… Stubborn…"

Sabrina snorted back a laugh, but couldn't hide her grin.

"He's the most stubborn person I know," she agreed. "Has he always been like that?"

"Always."

Nearly twenty minutes passed with simple conversation. Nick was certain he fell more in love with Sabrina with each exchange between her and his grandmother. She wasn't fazed by Nonna's fleeting memory, her struggle to put words together. And Nonna seemed to like her. He had never doubted that she would.

There was a knock on the door. A nurse entered.

"Mr. Scratch? Your grandmother's doctor is available if you want to speak with him."

"I do," Nick confirmed. "Sabrina, will you be okay with Nonna?"

"She… Fine…" Nonna piped up.

"You heard the lady," Sabrina said. "We're fine." She stood from her perch and retrieved his scooter. "You're using this, though."

"Fine," he relented. "I won't be long." He kissed her quickly before navigating out of the room with the nurse. Sabrina settled into the chair he had abandoned.

"You… Love… Him…"

"I love him," Sabrina confirmed. "I love him very much, Mrs. Rossi. He makes me a better woman, a better person." She smiled a bit sadly. "He's told me how you raised him after his parents died. You did a wonderful job. He's a gentleman. He takes care of me, loves me. Thank you, for him."

Nonna's eyes water.

"Take… Care… Him…"

"I'll take care of him," Sabrina promised, reaching forward to grasp the woman's hands. "As much as he'll let me, anyway. He's just so stubborn."

Nonna smiled.

"Like… His… Mom…"

Sabrina laughed.

"I'm stubborn, too," she admitted. "We make quite the pair."

She made small talk with Nonna for nearly a half hour, learning bits and pieces about her, about Nick, how he grew up. She was completely enraptured by the woman, listened intently as Nonna slowly told her about how mischievous Nick was as a teenager, how proud of him she was now. The door opened and Nick returned.

"Everything going well in here?" he asked.

"Perfectly," Sabrina told him, eyes shining. Still, she could sense a shift in Nick. Whatever he had discussed with the doctor hadn't been good news. "Nonna says you're stubborn like your mom."

"You've never faced off with Nonna over geometry homework," Nick informed her. "If I'm stubborn like my mom, she got it from Nonna."

They stayed for a few more minutes, Nick telling his grandmother about his life in Greendale, his friendship with Ambrose. Sabrina saw the moment Nonna slipped away. Her eyes turned glassy and her lips shifted into a vague loose smile.

"Roman?" she asked. "Where's Nicky?"

Beside her, Nick sighed heavily. Her heart broke for him as she took in his clear disappointment that his grandmother's lucid moment came to an end.

"He's at school," Nick answered. Correcting her could end up upsetting her and he didn't want to run the risk. "It's time for me to go pick him up."

"Okay," she nodded. She looked at Sabrina. "Who's this?"

"This is Sabrina," he said, offering no further explanation. He wheeled closer to his Nonna. "I'll see you soon." He leaned in and kissed her check. "I love you, Nonna."

"Pick up… Milk…"

"I will," he said. "I'll see you in a bit." He turned to Sabrina. "I'm sorry," he apologized. "She doesn't remember…" Sabrina shook her head.

"No apologizing," she chastised, standing from her chair. "Mrs. Rossi?" She took the woman's hand in hers. "It was so wonderful to meet you."

"Alice," she replied. "Take… Care… Nicky…"

"I will," Sabrina promised. "I'll take care of him." She left the room, giving Nick a few more moments with his grandmother. He couldn't hide his sadness from her as he rolled through into the hall a few minutes later. "Come here, Scratch."

He leaned into her embrace, still on his scooter, and allowed her to see how much it hurt to know his grandmother was slowly losing herself, that she wouldn't be with them for much longer. Still, he was grateful for the lucid time, grateful that she had gotten to meet Sabrina.

"It's hard to see her like that," he confessed. "I don't do very well with it." He released Sabrina, but kept his arms looped around her waist. She kept hers around his neck. "Her doctor said she's deteriorating, that there's nothing more they can do other than keep her comfortable."

"Oh Nick," she sighed, running her hand through his hair. "I'm so sorry…"

"I agreed to palliative care," he told her. "She could pass tomorrow, or she could last several more months, but I signed the Do Not Resituate order."

"She's lived a good life," Sabrina soothed. "She loves you so much. She's so proud of you. I can't say I understand what you're going through, but I'm here for you, whatever you need."

"This," Nick said, pulling her back into a hug. "I need this." She tightened her embrace around him. "Did I tell you I called her the night you showed up on my doorstep after Tommy Kinkle died?"

"You didn't," Sabrina shook her head. They were in the middle of a nursing home hallway, but in that moment, they were the only two people around, at least for each other.

"I wasn't doing too well that night," he admitted. "I felt like a failure as a detective, a boyfriend. I didn't have so much as a person of interest. You were mad at me. I was worried to a point of unraveling over the fact that there was a target on your back and I might not be able to protect you. I was spiraling, and so I called her, not long before you got there. I knew she wouldn't remember – she thought I was Nonno the whole time – but I needed to tell someone what I was dealing with, how afraid I was of losing you. Selfishly, I called her because I knew she wouldn't remember, which meant there would be no record of me having a breakdown."

"Oh Nick," Sabrina sighed again. "I'm so sorry…"

"You have no idea what you showing up on my doorstep that night did for me," he confessed. "You have no idea how much I love you."

"I have an idea," Sabrina told him. "At least enough to put yourself between me and a gun."

"I'll do it again in a heartbeat."

"I pray you won't have to," Sabrina replied. "Once was way more than enough." She kissed him sweetly. "Where to next, Scratch?"

"Food," he decided. He grinned, his spirits lifting. "How does Thai sound?"

"Like a great idea," Sabrina stated.

"Come on, Spellman." He released her and put his hand back on his scooter. "I know just the place."

Nick looked out over the city twinkling below him. Once upon a time, the scene brought him comfort. It used to make him feel safe, the idea of being a needle in a haystack, just another person on the streets of New York. He used to thrive in this city, at least professionally, knew it like the back of his hand. Now, it was just something to look at. A familiar place that had lost its shine.

"Nick?"

"Out here," he called.

He listened to her footsteps growing closer, looked over his shoulder to watch her climb through window onto his small balcony.

"How did you get out here?" she asked.

"Carefully," he answered. She gave him a look. "I sat on the window sill and pivoted," he clarified. "There's not a lot of room out here, Spellman. Two, maybe three hops and I was at my chair." He smacked the arm of the old folding lawn chair for emphasis. Sabrina rolled her eyes.

"Aren't you cold?"

"A little," he admitted. "But I wanted to take in the view for a few minutes." He took her in, cheeks flushed from the cold, eyes bright. "Come sit with me for a minute."

"There isn't another chair…"

"You don't need one." She was mindful of his shoulder as she perched on his lap. He used his good arm to pull her into him. "Successful trip to the bodega?"

"There is ice cream in the freezer and coffee on the counter," she confirmed. "I also picked up a few things for breakfast in the morning."

"I really hit the girlfriend jackpot with you, Spellman." He let his hand rest on her thigh and for the umpteenth time, longed for the day, hopefully a couple of weeks from then, that he would be able to put both arms around her again. "You have been incredible today, first with my Nonna, then with my friends…"

"I love seeing this part of your life," she said, running a hand through his curls. "Meeting your Nonna, then your friends… I like seeing what your life was like here."

"You have shined today," Nick said. "Even Marcos saw it, and that idiot can't see his hand in front of his face most of the time."

"I thought you told me Marcos was one of the best forensic scientists you've ever worked with."

"He is," Nick admitted. "I just don't like to admit it. Another Yankees fan." Sabrina laughed. "Seriously, beautiful. You were so patient with Nonna, patient with me… And my friends are good guys but they're, well, guys, and you hung right in there."

"Like I said, I like seeing you like this." She kissed him sweetly. "It's easy to forget you had a life before Greendale that I wasn't a part of. Seeing you here, it tells me a little bit more about who you are."

"You know who I am," Nick countered. "You know me better than anyone, in all the ways that matter."

She didn't reply, opting to snuggle into his uninjured shoulder. He hugged her to him and nuzzle her hair. She sighed contently.

They had taken the train from New Haven to New York that morning and went straight to visit Nonna while she was most likely to be lucid. From there, Nick had taken her to a hole in the wall Thai place where she had the best red curry of her life. Nick's friends, all NYPD members, had gotten wind that he was in town thanks to an Instagram post he had made of Sabrina walking down the sidewalk with a pretzel in one hand and a _New York Times_ in the other. He had captioned it "Showing my girl the real New York," she had swooned, and his phone had blown up with texts from his friends. They had ended up at a dive bar with his friends, and she had liked them, even beating one of them, Julius, at darts.

Now, they were back in his old apartment. He had sublet it when he moved to Greendale and with the lease up and the person he had subleased to moved out, it was up to him to turn in the keys in a couple of days. It was a shoebox of a place, crowded with a musty old sofa and beat up coffee table, an old flatscreen TV, and a makeshift card table and chairs that served as a place to eat. She had insisted on new sheets for the bed, which he had already thought of, and the water pressure wasn't great, but Sabrina liked it. It was a part of Nick's past, and she could see him there, sitting on this tiny patch of a concrete meant to be a balcony late at night nursing a beer or standing in the postage stamp of a kitchen, scarfing down takeout right out of the box. She was eager to see what else he would show of her his past.

"Do you miss it?" she asked.

"Miss what?"

"New York."

"No." His answer was easy, honest. "I did at first. It was a culture shock, going from New York to Greendale. But what I've found in Greendale makes leaving this place easy." He tightened his arm around her even more. "Falling in love with you is the best thing I've ever done, Sabrina Spellman."

"I'm really glad you moved to Greendale, Nicholas Scratch." She pressed her lips to his jaw. "No matter the circumstances that brought you there." Another kiss to his jaw. "I love you."

He held her close for a few more minutes, but he couldn't ignore the chill that had set in and knew she was likely freezing. He kissed her hair.

"Let's go inside, Spellman."

"Please," she agreed. "It's cold."

She slipped through the window and stood ready to help Nick should he need it. He moved slower than she knew he would like, but he managed without so much as a flinch and maneuvered to his knee scooter.

"You ready for bed, beautiful?" He stifled a yawn.

"I'm going to take a shower first, then I'll join you."

"Be quick," he said. "Mostly because I want you in bed with me, but also because there isn't much hot water. You'll be taking a cold shower if you aren't out within about seven minutes, and I know how you feel about cold showers."

"I'll be quick," Sabrina promised. She started towards the bedroom, but Nick caught her by the hand. She looked at him expectantly. He said nothing, but pulled her towards him. He let go of her hand and wrapped his hand around her neck to bring her to him. He kissed her, deep and with purpose. She was breathless when they parted. "That was something else, Scratch."

"I've still got it," he said with a wink. She rolled her eyes playfully and left him to shower.

He had gotten good at maneuvering in his current state. It took a little longer than he'd like, but he managed to strip off the jeans he wore, and then the thermal shirt, his shoulder pinging only moderately. He got into bed, and listened to the sounds of Sabrina clinking around in his bathroom. It made him smile to himself.

It was just after the New Year. The holidays in Greendale had been like something out of a Rockwell painting and he had loved every moment of it, especially waking up with Sabrina on Christmas morning. She had insisted a couple of weeks before Christmas that he put up a tree and he had been powerless to stop her. Within the day, she had a tree up in his living room and had even dug out the ornaments he had brought with him that had belonged to his Nonna. To surprise her, he had enlisted Ambrose, Craig, and Spriggs to put Christmas lights up outside. It was worth the hard time they gave him for impressing a girl when she came home from the newspaper and he flipped on the switch to light up his house.

He had had foot surgery the next day, Sabrina driving him to and from the hospital, putting up with him with all the patience of a saint while he was loopy from the anesthesia, helping him through the next days. She had yet to go back to the mortuary for a night, and he had no intentions of sending her home. It sounded silly, like something out of one of the predictable Christmas movies she liked on the Hallmark channel, but she made his house feel like home.

They had spent Christmas Day at the mortuary, eating Hilda's cooking, watching Zelda fawn over the twins, and listening to Ambrose read _A Christmas Carol. _Sabrina and Prudence had even laughed together while cleaning up dinner, the shift in their relationship clear.

She had dragged him to Greendale's town square for a New Year's Eve celebration, and he both enjoyed not having to work the crazed Times Square Scene for the first time in a decade and kissing her with all he had when the clock struck midnight and confetti fell around them and their neighbors.

Now, he had her in New York.

He had a list of things he wanted to show her, knew they wouldn't get to them all this visit, but he would use it as incentive to bring her back soon. All he really wanted was to spend a few days with her, away from Greendale, away from the lingering chaos of Harvey's crimes, give her a chance to have some fun and relax a little instead of taking care of his healing injuries.

He was proud of her, more than anything. She had called the therapist Theo recommended and had been going every week. She was quieter when she came home after a session, but she always seemed lighter the next day, like some of the burdens she carried got a little lighter with a therapy session and a good night's sleep. She was the strongest person he knew, and he was certain he fell a little more in love with her each morning when he woke up and saw her lying beside him.

As for himself, he, too, had upped his calls with his therapist from once a month to once every other week to process everything that had happened, both bad and good. He was planning to go back to work next week, a move Sabrina wasn't happy about, but he felt ready, physically and emotionally, and there was plenty to do to make sure Harvey got the maximum punishment. He was eager to be back in his office, back to using his brain, even if it was to decide if someone deserved a parking ticket.

He heard the shower turn off. A few minutes later, Sabrina emerged, her hair damp around her shoulders, a silky floral robe wrapped around her. He tried to suppress his grin. He loved that robe. She had put the physical part of their relationship on ice for the last month, given his injuries and in spite of his efforts, but that robe did something to him. He didn't hate that she had brought that one with her instead of the fluffy white one she seemed to love.

"Scratch, I've been thinking," she said, making her way to the side of his bed. "Your ribs are mostly healed, yes?"

"Other than the occasional pang if I make a wrong move too fast, yes," he nodded. The bruises on his chest and stomach had also largely faded, now shades of yellow and a light purple.

She took a step closer, her hand playing with the belt that cinched the robe around her waist.

"Your shoulder, in spite of still being in a sling, is also a lot less painful?"

"It is," he confirmed. "With luck, I'll be out of this thing in another week."

She pulled at the end of the belt just slightly. He dared not get his hopes up.

"And your foot – still a little painful, but okay as long as you aren't trying to put weight on it for extended amounts of time?"

"It's getting better every day," he nodded.

"Well, then…"

She pulled the belt and her robe fell open. She wasn't wearing anything under it. Nick stirred. It didn't take much to make him hard these days, and here she was, practically offering herself up after weeks of reminding him he was injured and they couldn't.

"Don't tease me, Spellman," he warned.

The robe hit the floor.

His breath hitched.

"I think, if we're mindful of your shoulder, we could perhaps reward you for good patient behavior." She came to him and settled herself on his lap. His eyes were dark and hooded. She ran a hand through his hair. "What do you think, Scratch?"

His working arm looped around her and pulled her into him, so her bare chest pressed into his. He pushed his hips into her and heard her gasp with pleasure.

"I might only have one working arm right now, but there will be nothing 'good behavior' about what I'm going to do to you, beautiful. I might have made us wait in the beginning, but once I got a taste of you…" He nipped at her neck in a place he knew drove her crazy. "I need you." Another nip. "In fact, I think this might be integral to my healing process."

"Then let's get you healed, Scratch."

She kissed him, deep and purposeful. He groaned into her mouth, ran his tongue along her bottom lip, prompting her to part hers. His hand traveled low, cupped her ass and squeezed. He moved it to her hip, holding her to him. His lips left hers and traveled along her neck.

"I'll have to be on top," she said, already a bit breathless. "You can't support yourself with your shoulder…"

"Sabrina?"

He licked the hollow of her throat.

"Yes?" she breathed, head falling back to expose more of her neck to him.

"Stop talking."

He dipped his head and took her nipple in his mouth. His name fell from her lips as she lost herself a little more to pleasure. His hand moved from her hip to cup her other breast, a squeeze then a pinch of her nipple. She kept herself close, one arm around his neck, the other holding onto the iron headboard.

"Nick," she sighed contently.

She knew what she was doing when she exited the bathroom. Nick had been doing everything he could to convince her to take her clothes off, going as far as trying to slip into the shower with her a few days earlier. She had kicked him out when she realized he had no intentions of bathing and locked the door. She knew as soon as her robe hit the floor he would go from nothing to ninety and he had. She didn't hate it. She had missed sex, too.

He parted his own legs to spread hers. His hand traveled down her torso and dipped between her legs. He knew he would find her ready for him, but he took his time, his thumb on her clit, two fingers in her. Her gasp told him he was touching her the way she liked. Her body started to shake, her walls pulse. He pulled out his fingers.

"Nick!" she cried out. "What the hell?"

He smirked and kissed her mouth.

"You're a tease, Spellman," he said again. "But so am I." He pushed down his boxer briefs, letting himself spring free. Sabrina helped him pull them the rest of the way off, still careful with his foot in spite of her lust-fogged brain. "Come here, beautiful."

She straddled him, positioned herself over him. His arm went around her waist and his lips met hers as she sunk onto him.

"God, I missed this," she breathed as he filled her in a way only he could. She used the headboard for leverage, moved against him, testing different angles to find the spot she wanted him to hit. He grunted against her neck as his hips pumped to meet hers. She had no doubt he was leaving marks, but she didn't care. Not tonight. "Ahh!"

"You feel so good," he said as she arched against him. "Damn, Sabrina."

He hooked his arm around her shoulder and pumped harder, driven on by both pleasure and her cries of want. He held himself back until she started to tremble, then picked up his intensity, bucking against her, aware of the headboard digging into his back and his shoulder panging in protest, speared on by the blinding pleasure.

"Fuck!" he cried out when came inside her, mingling with her cry of his name. She collapsed against him, and he rested against the headboard, an arm around her, still inside her.

"I definitely missed that," she breathed.

"Me, too," Nick agreed. His hand ran along her back. "I hope you're up for repeat performances, because we have some time to make up for." She laughed against him.

"I can drop the robe again and everything," she promised.

She kissed him, then lifted herself off of him. He missed her right away. She turned the lamp off and slid under the blankets, intent to sleep naked. He joined her, beckoning for her to come lay on his chest.

"I love you, Spellman."

'I love you," she replied. She said it often, mostly because she could. "What are we going to do tomorrow?"

"I'm going to show you around the neighborhood I grew up in," he told her. "There's a ice cream parlor you'll love. You might even like their milkshakes more than you like Cee's. Then, I thought, tomorrow night, maybe we could go to Times Square? I know I teased you about all of the tourist stuff, but I've always loved Times Square. It sort of feels like the center of the universe."

"That sounds like a good day," she said.

"Anything you really want to do while we're here?" he asked.

"I want to see your New York," she said. "All of it."

"All of it," he agreed. His hand ran through her hair. "I'll show you everything."

Sabrina studied the simple gravestone with Amalia's name, her birth and death dates. Her life, reduced to no more than a dash between two dates. Nick was stoic at her side, eyes trained on the stone, trapped in thoughts that were his to keep to himself.

Gently, Sabrina took one of the carnations they had picked up from a street vendor from the bundle held tightly in Nick's hand. She stepped forward and placed the carnation on her grave. She came back to Nick and kissed his cheek.

"Take your time," she whispered. She walked away, leaving him alone with his thoughts and Amalia.

A minute passed, then another. He allowed himself to remember the good times with Amalia, because despite how turbulent their relationship was, there were good times. They had never been right for each other, a fact that he saw with glaring clarity now that he had Sabrina, but there had been moments where he thought they could have been. He felt guilty for how he had treated her, how he hadn't walked away when he should have, but with time and therapy, he was starting to understand that he wasn't responsible for her death.

"Amalia," he said. He stepped forward, mindful of his booted foot. He stooped down beside her grave and exhaled. "It's been a whole year." He thought back over the last year, the immediate aftermath of her death, the spiraling out of control, moving to Greendale, meeting Sabrina, Harvey's murder spree, his injuries. He wondered at the fact that all of that had happened in just a year's time. "I'm sorry."

He placed the flowers and stayed for another few moments, reflecting on the past, but hopeful for what was ahead. He exhaled and stood, making the decision to release his guilt, release Amalia. He turned and slowly walked away from Amalia, his eyes on Sabrina who waited patiently near the graveyard's entrance.

He didn't look back.

"Hi," she said cautiously, feeling out where Nick's head was.

"Hi," he replied softly.

He reached for her and she allowed him to pull her in tight. She wrapped her arms around him and hugged him hard. They had already been to his parents' grave, a place he hadn't been in years. He had surprised her with the suggestion that they also visit Amalia's, but she could sense it was what he needed.

"What can I do for you?" she asked.

"This," he said, kissing the top of her hair. "And maybe spend the rest of your life with me."

She laughed and hugged him still harder.

"I'm not going anywhere," she promised. "I love you, Nick."

"I love you too, Sabrina." He pulled away, but only so he could kiss her. "I could really use a milkshake."

She laughed again and took his hand.

"Let's go then."

Hand-in-hand, they walked through the graveyard gates, pausing just long enough for Nick to begrudgingly settle on his knee scooter. They moved forward, the past their foundation, the future unknown, but together, confident that they would have each other for whatever came next.


	29. Chapter 29

Sabrina never goes back to the mortuary, at least not as a resident. Nick casually mentions that she should get the rest of her things over a hurried breakfast one more before he has to be at the station and she has to be at an editorial meeting and by the weekend, her dresser is in his bedroom, her clothes in his closet.

They go through a learning curve, figuring out how to live together instead of just sleeping over. Sabrina is tidier than Nick, and his tendency to leave his clean clothes stacked in chairs and his dirty clothes in a pile on the floor drives her crazy. He struggles with her preference for almond milk and reality TV over his like of cow's milk and baseball games. They have a petty argument over throw pillows that sends her to the mortuary – with Dublin – where she intends to sleep for the night, but he's there within the hour and another hour later, they're home, making love on the very pillows they argued about.

Nonna passes away the day after Valentine's Day. The call comes in the early morning hours, before the sun is up. Nick answers with a groggy "'Lo?" as Sabrina groans and snuggles her naked body closer to his. He's alert within moments and so is she, holding him while he cries, then, later, she is by his side, holding his hand at Nonna's funeral. When she sees him faltering, she squeezes his hand three times. He squeezes back four, and sits up a little straighter.

The days after Nonna's death are hard. Nick is responsible for her estate, and while most of her arrangements were made years earlier, there are still death certificates to send, accounts to access and close, belongings to sort through. He's short tempered and not himself and she tries to be patient, allow him to grieve, but as the days tick by, she finds it harder and harder.

They're in New York at his Nonna's apartment, the place Nick grew up and now technically owns with her passing, to continue the work of sorting through her belongings, when he tells Sabrina he's going out to pick up something for dinner. But hours pass and he doesn't come back, doesn't answer his phone. She's frantic with worry and walks around a few blocks near the apartment complex, but New York is big and she's not sure where to even begin. When he finally does show up, it's one in the morning, he reeks of bourbon, and he's stumbling more than walking.

That night, she puts him to bed and listens to his nonsensical mutterings. But in the morning, she lights into him, not caring that he's barely awake and incredibly hungover. She understands that he's hurting, but she won't put up with the kind of behavior he exhibited last night. She's tired of being on the receiving end of his bad moods, and did he know how worried she was last night? Not to mention the fact that he left her at the apartment in a strange city all alone for hours and hours.

She leaves, informing him that she's going out for the day, because enough is enough and she needs a break from him. Don't bother to call. He, of course, calls several times, but she ignores him – and makes sure she's not sharing her location with him – and when she finally comes home in the late afternoon, he's beside himself. He apologizes profusely and confesses that he realized en route to the store that he's alone now – his family is gone.

What little annoyance she had held on to after a day she purposefully spent apart from him to cool off dissipates. She's there, reminding him that she is his family, that he isn't alone. They spend the rest of the night wrapped in one another, no sex, just comfort. He keeps apologizing and she keeps reminding him she's forgiven him. They order in pizza and while its good, it's nothing like his.

A week later, it's his birthday. He told her once that his Nonna used to make him lasagna to celebrate, so she enlists Ambrose to keep him busy and Hilda to help her bake both a lasagna and the chocolate ganache cake he also mentioned. She spends most of the afternoon snapping at Hilda who keeps trying to interfere, but she is insistent on doing it herself, even if her cooking skills are currently limited to the basics, which is still more than Nick is capable of, save for his pizzas.

He's genuinely surprised when he gets home to find all the Spellmans, Cee, Prudence, the twins, Theo, Roz, and Billy in his kitchen, Sabrina beaming, Dublin sitting at her side. He's never made a big deal about his birthday, hasn't properly celebrated in years, and his last one was spent with him doing his worst in the weeks after Amalia's death, but like their belated Thanksgiving, he's floored by the genuine desire of the people he now considers family to be there with him to celebrate.

He doesn't lie when he tells Sabrina it's the best lasagna and cake he's ever had. It's not that it tastes better than Nonna's – it absolutely does not – but it's that _she _made it for him because she believes in celebrating birthdays and holidays as big and over the top as possible. When they are finally alone, he makes love to her, slow and drawn out, repeatedly bringing them both to the edge then pulling back so when they finally do come, it's intense and overwhelming and hard to recover from. Afterward, her in his arms, her naked body wrapped around him, he thanks her and reminds her this is forever.

The NYPD tries to woo him back. He politely declines. Greendale is his home now, but he puts in a recommendation for Officer Craig who puts in his notice with Ambrose a couple of weeks later. Sabrina asks him if he has regrets, and he assures her the only regret he has is that he hadn't moved to Greendale and met her sooner.

No one is surprised when Nick turns up at the mortuary in late spring, asking Zelda, Hilda, and Ambrose for Sabrina's hand in marriage. They readily agree and are popping a bottle of champagne to celebrate before he's made it to his Jeep. It's the hardest thing the aunts have ever done, waiting for Nick to propose. Ambrose enjoys watching them squirm.

It's a random Friday night a couple of weeks later. It's raining out, has been raining for days, and they've both been busy all week. Harvey's trial is soon and Nick is preparing for what Prudence says could be an all day testimony from him. Sabrina is reporting on the trial, stories from around town peppered into the mix when she can get to them. They've made Friday nights their pizza night though, and he's slowly teaching her how to make the dough and sauce. She's nearly mastered the sauce, and while the dough wouldn't exist without his help, she's getting better at shaping it after its proofed.

She's standing at the kitchen island, hands on her hips, flour dusting the apron Hilda gave her when she realized Sabrina was serious about learning how to cook better, debating out loud with herself over which toppings she wants this week. He's been trying to plan a big, grand proposal, but it hits him that this is the moment – here, in their kitchen, where it all began. He kisses her cheek and excuses himself.

When he comes back a few minutes later, she's settled on pepperoni, arugula, and pine nuts – she thinks – and looks to him for his thoughts on the matter. Instead, she finds him nervous, his hands in his pockets. He gives a short speech about how much he loves her and how much he wants to share his life with her. He gets down on one knee, presents her with a ring, and she's so surprised and happy that she launches herself at him to kiss him and it's a full minute before he remembers to put the ring on her finger.

It's his mother's ring, she learns later, once again in bed, naked in his arms. The house still smells like the pizza they burned, but neither of them care. He's playing with the ring on her finger, noting how it sparkles and how perfect it looks, even how perfectly it fits her. She's going to be his wife and it's baffling to him that a year ago words like "wife" and "marriage" would have sent him running, but Sabrina isn't just any girl. She's – his fiancé.

What does surprise everyone is Sabrina's declaration that she will be taking Nick's last name. He's the most surprised of all. He was ready to suggest a hyphenated name – Spellman-Scratch, Scratch-Spellman, he didn't really care, she could pick – but she insists. She tells him over their Friday night pizza that it's important to her because he's the last of his bloodline and she wants to make sure his surname lives on, something she knows, whether he's said it or not, is important to him. Besides, she adds, 'Sabrina Scratch' does have a certain ring to it. He takes her right there on the couch.

Harvey's trial is relatively quick. Between Nick's evidence and Sabrina's recording, there is no doubt in anyone's mind that he's guilty. Prudence does, in fact, seek the death penalty, but Sabrina is the one who makes the plea in court – with Nick's support – that he serve life in prison with no chance of parole. She feels he should have to live with what he's done, be haunted by the ghosts of those he killed. The jury agrees and while Sabrina doesn't know what prison he's in, Nick does. He wll always know – just in case.

Their wedding is small and intimate and perfectly them, much to Zelda's chagrin as she had plans for the biggest, grandest wedding Greendale has ever seen. A spectacle isn't important to them. Neither is a long engagement. They just want to be married and to celebrate the day with their closest family and friends. Sabrina meets Nick's distant aunts and their families during the wedding festivities and decides she likes one, one not so much. The aunts tell Nick they think it's a bit fast, given he's barely known Sabrina a year when they become husband and wife, but he dismisses them. He knows Sabrina and she knows him and together, they hsve already gone through enough trials to prove they can make it through anything.

They settle into married life after a honeymoon to, Nick surprises Sabrina, Italy. She becomes the paper's editor and the FBI comes calling, asking Nick to join them. He negotiates, offering up his talents as an outside contractor of sorts, so long as he gets to stay in Greendale and be the Greendale PD's detective, as quiet as the town is these days. They agree and Sabrina knows it's the right thing – Nick needs to use his mind, and consulting on cases lets him do that, even if it occasional takes him away from her for a few days, even a few weeks.

As for her, she's approached about a book deal and ends up writing one, sharing her story of growing up in Greendale and loving a killer. It's a best seller and opens up other writing opportunities for her. She continues her work as editor, but takes on the jobs she wants. Both she and Nick are respected in their professions, could live anywhere in the world, but Greendale is home and they are steadfast in their belief that it is the right place for them.

They move from Nick's small house to a bigger farmhouse on the outskirts of town, a place Sabrina renovates and Nick hires someone to mow the yard because he grew up in New York, has never touched a lawnmower before, and after one go of it, decides its worth paying someone else to do. He rationalizes it by saying he can spend more time with his family if he's not doing yard work and Sabrina pretends to buy it.

Their first child, a boy, Nicholas Anthony Scratch III, comes along just shy of their second wedding anniversary. Being a mom is the only thing that's ever been more natural for her than writing and Nick settles into the role of dad like it was a suit tailored for him, despite the nights he spent awake and worrying, having never had a father to show him what one should be like. She's certain there isn't a sight sexier or sweeter than Nick Scratch with his baby son, an exact replica of him, in his arms, and she's willing to have ten more if she can just keep that image for as long as possible.

Salem wants nothing to do with the child, but Dublin has appointed herself his keeper of sorts. She's in whatever the room the baby is in, sleeps in the baby's nursery at night, has even trotted to their bedroom to let them know he needed them before his cries ever made it across the monitor – which is state of the art, because if nothing else, Nick will make sure his home and thereby his family have the best security in place, right down to the baby monitor.

Their friends' lives change, too. Roz moves away, all the way to San Francisco, as soon as Harvey's trial is over. She just couldn't be in Greendale anymore, needed a fresh start. She comes back for their wedding, but she's settled in San Francisco now, happy and starting to date again. Theo and Billy are living together, discussing marriage, but Theo is making waves on his own as an advocate in the LGQBT community. Sabrina is so proud of him she feels like bursting sometimes.

Prudence is granted permanent custody of the twins. Ambrose moves in with her and they raise her brother and sister in an odd sort of parental way. They get married themselves, giving Zelda her spectacle of a wedding, have a boy of their own not long after Nicholas comes along. Sabrina hopes the boys grow up close, best friends like her and Ambrose.

Cee moves into the mortuary because as Hilda puts it, it's just too quiet without Sabrina and Ambrose, but everyone knows Cee's residency at the mortuary is as good as marriage. Zelda keeps herself busy, elected to mayor for another term, starts to show interest in the town's treasurer, and is always willing to babysit when asked.

Their baby girl comes along just after Nicholas' second birthday. They name her Diana Alice, but call her Alice because when they see her for the first time, they know without a doubt that she's an Alice. If Nicholas is the spitting image of Nick, Alice is her mother, right down to her petite size and button nose. She still has her father's dark hair, though – those genes can't be overridden. Nicholas is bold and brazen, but loves an evening snuggle in his mother lap. Alice is good-natured and kind, but with a temper hidden below her innocent eyes and the sweet smile that cons her Daddy into whatever she wants. He says its because her smile is just like her mother's. Sabrina says its because he's a pushover when it comes to his daughter.

It's not always perfect. They have arguments and parenting is hard, but they love each other and that's enough to get them through the though times. Nick still can't keep his hands off of her and she still doesn't want him to. That's how their third baby, another daughter, Magdalena Lux, comes along.

"We did okay, Scratch," she says one evening, sitting on the swing on their front porch, tea and coffee in their respective hands, watching their little ones chase lightning bugs. Nicholas is fast and everywhere, their new golden retriever puppy, Max, bounding after him. Alice is in her own world, twirling until she's dizzy and then trying to run after her brother, falling down in the grass and laughing hysterically. Mags is barely walking, but she's determined to try and keep up with her older siblings. Dublin, old dog that she is, lays dutifully at the top of the porch steps and watches over her family, no longer up for romping in the yard with her young charges. Sabrina dreads the day she knows is coming when Dublin has to leave them. She knows Nick dreads it more. It was part of the reason they brought Max into the fold, a way to ease the hurt, if even marginally.

"You've given me all I could ever want, Spellman." He still calls her that. He can't help it. It's part of who she is. His arm is already around her, so he pulls her in closer, kisses her temple. "We did pretty damn good, Mrs. Scratch.

She takes his hand and squeezes it three times.

_I love you. _

He squeezes back four.

_I love you, too. _


End file.
